Lightnin' Strikes
by 7.06andcounting
Summary: "That was Joanne. Met her at work today." Seems like a sensible place to start. Tie in to, and overlapping with, 'Our One Rule' and 'Love Me Two Times', but don't tell Soda and Jo. As far as they're concerned, this was always their own story...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own The Outsiders. I guess I own Joanne. **** Title from the song by Lou Christie, which was No.1 in February '66 and still in the chart as the story starts, so let's imagine it on the radio in the DX...**

**This will probably make most sense to anyone who read my Evie stories, because it overlaps those events, but I'd still love to hear from new readers and if you PM I will happily explain any back story that seems confusing.**

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_**March 1966...**_

**Joanne**

"My car coughed and died." How stupid did I sound? But that's what happened. And now I was going to be late to the warehouse and the whole plan I had, to get to know the office before I officially started work on Monday, so people wouldn't treat me like I only got the job because I was the boss's niece, was shot to hell and I was going to be late.

I didn't realize I was trying to explain all that, in one breath, to the garage guy, until he interrupted me.

"Hey, I'll come take a look. I'm sure it's nothin' major. It'll be okay." He sounded so calm and confident, I relaxed a little.

He whistled as we walked back along the street, the tune that had been on the radio back at the workshop, and he asked me how I liked Tulsa. I told him I'd only been here a day or so and apart from unpacking, I hadn't done much else. He looked like he was going to say something but then we were there, back at my car, and he popped the hood and started fiddling about.

"Try her now," he said, after only a minute or so and I turned the key without much hope. The engine caught and roared into life.

When I thanked him and asked him what I owed him, he waved the question away.

"Wasn't nothin'. You have a good first day, huh?"

I had a real busy first day, if that qualifies as 'good'; learning where everything went and how to transfer calls between the office and the warehouse without cutting off the caller. But, at lunchtime, when I sat with Lynette, the other secretary, and ate my sandwich, I found I was thinking about him. He sure was cute.

After work, I drove home – I half expected the car to cough and splutter, after being parked up all day, but it didn't. Whatever the DX guy had done seemed like a real fix. I was feeling proud of myself, first day as a working woman and all, and I pulled over to get an ice cream to celebrate. Maybe living with my mom's sister and working for her husband wasn't exactly striking out on my own, but I was a lot further from home than any of my friends from school had made it so far. Most of them wouldn't leave their parents' farms until they married some local boy and moved to _his_ farm.

I wanted something else. I wanted something different.

I wanted to be brave enough to walk into a Dairy Queen and order myself whatever I wanted, including ice cream even if I didn't have dinner yet - and to pay for it with my own money. It was a small step on the road to becoming an independent young woman, but hell, it was 1966 and I could do whatever I wanted.

The place was busy and it felt strange not to know anyone. Back home, in Betty-Ann's diner, I would have known all the kids at least by sight and plenty by name too. I hesitated, suddenly nervous. And then I saw him.

I remembered how reassuring he'd sounded when he told me everything would be okay and my feet just carried me over to him. I heard myself offer to buy him a drink for saving me from being late to work and he said yes. _He said yes_!

Never in a million years would I have offered to buy a boy a drink back home, I don't even know how the words popped out my mouth.

When we got to the counter, I didn't open my wallet in time and he bought the drinks anyway, which defeated my gesture. But by that time I didn't care, because we were talking and he was smiling at me and I know I was smiling back like a fool.

"You wanna get something to eat?"

And then I remembered I was expected back at Aunt Emma's. She probably had some special dinner planned.

"'S'okay," he smiled. "How about I call you after I take my kid brother home? You ask your aunt, see if you can come out? We could go for a walk or something, after dinner, if you gotta eat there..." I nodded. I really wanted to see him. He grinned. "You gotta give me your number, so I can call you."

I scribbled it on a napkin and he tucked it in his shirt pocket, as he walked me to my car. More than one chick in the DQ _stared_ at us on our way past. I reminded myself that I didn't know anyone here – maybe he had a girl already and maybe those chicks were looking out for a friend. Although I couldn't imagine how any boy would have the nerve to make a date in front of his girlfriend's friends.

At home, I hovered in the kitchen door as Aunt Emma asked me how my day went. I told her everything went 'just fine', that I liked Lynette and the office and – in a rush – at the end I said:

"I met a boy. He's gonna be calling in a little while."

She turned around from the stove. "Well, you're a fast worker, honey." She smiled. "Does he work at the warehouse?"

"Does who work at the warehouse?" Uncle Jim came in the back door, his sleeves rolled up, tossing his newspaper onto the kitchen table. Aunt Emma scooped it up and kissed him hello and handed it back to him in one movement.

"I need that table clear," she said, "and Joanne got herself a date, is who I'm asking about."

"With one of the warehouse boys? I don't think –"

I interrupted and told them no, not one of the warehouse boys, he worked at the DX and his name was Sodapop Curtis.

"What's his real name?" Aunt Emma asked at the same time as Uncle Jim said, "Curtis...?" thoughtfully.

I told them that _was_ his real name but I didn't think they believed me, the way I'd believed him. I told them about his fixing my car and Uncle Jim muttered about how he should have looked at it himself. Aunt Emma looked at me thoughtfully.

"He ask you out to eat, honey?"

"That's okay. I told him I'd be expected here. Maybe I could go out after, though?"

"Oh, it'll be just fine cold tomorrow. If you want to go out, you can."

Uncle Jim blinked in surprise. "Now, wait a minute..." The phone started ringing. I looked at both of them. It wasn't my house, it wasn't my place to answer it. But Aunt Emma waved me towards it.

I picked it up, never doubting for a second that it was him. It was. His voice was even more gorgeous on the phone. I swear I could hear him smiling.

"Tell him to come to the door. I ain't having no horns sounding out front..." Uncle Jim was talking as I made arrangements for Sodapop to come pick me up in half an hour. Aunt Emma shushed him and he started reminding her about some boy that my cousin Kathleen had dated in high school, who never came up to the house. Kathleen was married now and expecting her second baby.

I ran upstairs and opened my closet and despaired. Why had I said half an hour? I took the quickest shower in human history and then dressed three separate times. I settled on capris and a sweater, my new shoes and my charm bracelet. I redid my hair and makeup and I was almost exactly ready when I heard the front door bell.

Not quite ready enough to save him from an interrogation.

Uncle Jim was facing down Sodapop, with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. "What you drivin' there, son?" he was asking as I came down the stairs.

"That's my brother's pick up, sir, well, I guess it's all of ours really, I mean, it was my dad's and now Darry uses it most, for work and stuff, but – " He broke off and smiled at me. "Hi."

I said _Hi_ back.

Uncle Jim, who had been looking out at the truck, frowned. "_Curtis_, is it? I got a Curtis works for me, nights."

Sodapop looked surprised. "My brother works over to the warehouse up on Sheridan, coupla nights a week. Hughes Construction Supplies."

"Big fella, dark hair?"

Soda nodded.

"Well, I'll be. He works construction too, I think?"

"Roofin' mostly. He does some dry walling, winters."

"Hard working young man." Uncle Jim nodded thoughtfully. "Where you taking my niece?" I cringed inside, but Sodapop just smiled, looking at me.

"Wherever she wants to go, sir. I don't care. It's up to her."

"I don't know anywhere around here," I reminded him.

"Jim," Aunt Emma called him from the kitchen door, her tone telling him he'd asked enough.

I paused, looking back at her. "Uh, do I have a curfew?"

"Well now, it is a work night, so I guess you don't want to be too late. I'm sure you'll use your judgement." She smiled at me. "Have a nice evening, honey."

As we climbed into the truck, I apologized for Uncle Jim's inquisition.

"Aw, that was okay. I had worse. Never had to answer questions 'bout Darry before. Wait'll I tell him I met his boss!"

"That's your brother, 'Darry'?"

"Yup. He's twenty one. You saw the other one, Pony, at the DQ earlier? He's coming up on fifteen."

I didn't ask him to repeat his little brother's name. I figured if I was sitting next to a guy named Sodapop, anything was possible. He was still chuckling about his brother working for Uncle Jim. "So, are you, like, real expert on construction supplies?" he teased.

"No. I just wanted off the farm and I'm pretty good at typing and Uncle Jim's secretary left to have a baby, so, here I am. I ain't gonna live with them forever. Soon as I save up enough, I'mma get my own apartment." I wondered if he would laugh at me, at my grand plan. I wondered if he would think I was loose, wanting to live on my own and do my own thing.

He just nodded. "Yeah? That's cool. I can dig that. Sometimes I think it might be nice to have my own place. Gets kind of crowded at ours sometimes."

"You got other brothers and sisters?"

"Nah, just the three of us. But we got buddies over most of the time."

"What do your folks say about that?" I asked. And then he told me. About his parents. I felt awful for asking, but he seemed okay, didn't seem offended or anything.

He asked if I had brothers or sisters. When I told him I had one older sister, three older brothers and one younger, he whistled low. "Well, if I wasn't on my best behavior before, I sure as heck am now."

"Aw, they ain't so bad. They only beat up my boyfriends if I ask them to. It's my sister you oughta be afraid of..." I watched his reaction out the corner of my eye. He raised an eyebrow.

"An' what about those boyfriends? Any of 'em coming to town after you?"

"I doubt it." I knew it, for sure. But it didn't hurt to put the idea out there.

We drove a little way, to a main drag that was lined with burger joints and crawling with traffic that seemed to be driving just for the sake of driving.

Sodapop waved his hand. "Now this here's The Ribbon. You said you didn't know anywhere around here, well, this is _here_. Anyone who wants to be seen, this is where they come." We cruised past a crowd of kids shrieking with laughter as they horsed around. I could hardly believe this was an ordinary week night. Back home, this many people, this much party atmosphere, would surely have meant it was the Fourth of July.

"Are you hungry?"

I was startled a little, I'd been watching the crowds so intently. I nodded. Sodapop pulled over to the lot of a little burger joint. "This place is okay. Unless you want something else. I don't care."

I didn't care either. I let him choose the burger, since he knew the menu. He ordered us both the special, but told them to hold the onions. This time, as we walked in and up to the counter and then out again with the food, I knew I wasn't imagining it; girls were looking at us. At me.

He'd parked right next to a picnic bench and we sat there to eat. I watched him take the lettuce and tomato out of his burger, before reassembling it.

"Why didn't you just ask them to hold the salad?"

"I'mma eat it, just not in the burger." He rolled up the lettuce and demolished it in two bites. The tomato went the same way. "Now I can concentrate on the good bit," he said, like it was perfectly normal.

I let him get a good bite out of the burger before I asked casually, "You got a girlfriend?" His eyes went wide and he swallowed hard. I'd probably just given him indigestion.

"Nope." It seemed like an honest answer.

"Hmm." I flicked my eyes over in the direction of two girls who were leaving the place, their heads turning and their body language making it obvious they were talking about us. "What's the deal with this then? People are _noticing_ us."

He shrugged. "People are stupid."

People are stupid? That was his response to the fact that I was getting inspected by chicks I'd never laid eyes on before?

"You just break up with someone?" _Someone who wants you back?_ He shook his head at me. I sipped my Seven Up. Something was going on here.

"Do you have horses, on your farm?" Sodapop asked me. He seemed genuinely keen to know, not like he was redirecting the conversation deliberately.

"Sure. A few, mostly my step dad and my oldest brother, Sam, use 'em to go over the place, check fences, that kind of thing."

"You ride?"

I nodded. "Of course. Ain't my favorite thing to do, but I can."

He looked sad for a second. "I miss it. I used to ride every chance I could, worked over at the stables and took my pay in time on horseback."

"Why'd you stop?"

"I got injured, so my dad put his foot down, then I got the job at the DX and I kind of don't have time any more, I guess."

"Injured how? You fell?" Everyone fell sometimes, how bad could it have been?

He pulled a face. "Fell? Yeah. You could say that. 'Fell'." He chuckled. "I fell about fifteen feet straight up and out the back door." _Ha_, now I knew what he was talking about.

"He fight you in the chute, or just give you a nice surprise once you got out?" I asked, making Sodapop brighten up.

"You know rodeo? You chase the cans?"

I shook my head. "Not my scene, but Gary, my second eldest brother, he rides saddle bronc. Got a few injuries himself."

"Yeah. Ain't never found a better high, though," he said, wistfully. I raised my eyebrows. "Oh. I don't...I mean, it ain't like I...I mean like car racing and shit like that, I ain't into drugs or nothin'..."

I nodded, sipping my drink. "You drag race? Round here?"

"Sure. My buddy Steve can soup pretty much any engine you can name. You like cars? You wanna see a race some time?" He was so open in his enthusiasm, I knew he was telling the truth when he said he didn't do drugs. Not that drag racing was exactly a low risk activity. But there was just something..._honest_ about Sodapop Curtis that made me not only believe him, but want to get to know him more.

I bit my lip, because I was conscious that I was smiling all the time. He probably thought I was an idiot. I asked him what everyone did after they'd driven up and down The Ribbon.

"The usual. Movies, bowling, or...y'know. The usual."

'The usual' back home included stopping somewhere in the back of beyond, preferably somewhere in the woods, if the guy was choosing. I wondered what Tulsa's equivalent Lovers' Lane was. And whether we'd be swinging past it, oh so casually.

We talked some more about our families, comparing annoying things that older and younger brothers did. It was getting cold and I shivered some. Sodapop leaped up and gave me his leather jacket, just as a sleek, low car pulled into the next parking space.

"Hey, baby, you need a ride home? Keep you warmer than some skanky greaser threads."

I stared at the boys hanging out the car. "What did you say?"

"Joanne. Leave it, it's okay. C'mon." Sodapop tried to steer me to the truck. The boys began to get out the car, all of them in some kind of uniform of fancy sweaters and chino pants.

"Greaser, you might wanna check with the doll before you put your hands all over her," one of them taunted. They all fell about laughing, as if this was the funniest thing they'd heard. This time Sodapop didn't take no for an answer and he practically lifted me into the passenger seat of the truck, closing the door firmly.

He span around and folded his arms, staring down the boys, who laughed even more. Obviously they were loaded. I couldn't hear them so well, from inside the truck, but something they said made him move forward, fists clenched. I banged on the window and Sodapop stopped in his tracks. He walked around the truck and climbed in, starting the engine up. His face stayed set, as he backed out and swung onto the street.

"Who were they?" I asked.

"Socs."

"What's that? Some sports team?"

He shot me a delighted smile. "Nah. That's what we call the rich kids. The 'too much money and not enough sense' crowd."

"Oh." I considered this. "And are they all assholes?"

Sodapop burst out laughing. "Have to say, they pretty much are."

I nodded. "Yeah, we got 'em at home. Don't call 'em that 'Soc' thing, but they're there."

He apologized. Because he nearly hit one. I thought that was so sweet. He said sorry for _nearly_ hitting a guy in front of me? I hadn't even heard what the guy said. If I had, I told Sodapop, maybe I'd have jumped out and slapped the guy myself. I asked if there were a lot of fights in town.

"To be honest, things have been a whole lot better recently." He explained about the North side and the South side and the fact that the high school pulled in kids from different neighborhoods and it wasn't necessarily a successful mix. He didn't seem keen to tell me why things were better, or why they'd been worse before.

He started to point out places as we drove, so I could work out where we were, in relation to Aunt Emma's place and to work. When we came to a junction he hesitated.

"Where are we going now?" I asked.

He pointed left. "Well, that'll take us back to your pad."

I waited. "And..? What's the other way?"

"Um. That's one of the lake roads."

There were dozens of lakes, I knew, from visits when I was younger and from conversation around Aunt Emma and Uncle Jim. I had my answer to the Lovers' Lane question, I guessed, from the way he hesitated.

"Do we not want to go up there?" I asked gently.

He struggled to answer. "Yeah. It's real peaceful, an'...stuff. But I was thinking your uncle might not be so keen to know you went up there and I was kind of thinking...I mean, hopin'...to kind of, maybe, see you again?"

"And you think Uncle Jim might not approve of you, if you drive me to see the lake?" I asked innocently.

"Um. Yeah."

"Oh. Is that where kids go, to make out and stuff, then?"

He swallowed. I grinned.

"I guess it's sensible then, if you take me straight home and I never mention that you mentioned the lake," I said with a cheeky tone, sliding a little closer, "because obviously, nothin' untoward could happen if we never went near the lake." I was right next to him now, my eyes fixed on his. "I mean, no lake, no...nothin', right?"

I kissed him.

I mean, forget about eating ice cream before dinner. If I was really going to be an independent young woman, didn't I get to call the shots? Sometimes?

He was surprised, in a good way, and he kissed me back quick enough. And he was good. Real good. We only broke apart when a car sounded its horn behind us and he had no choice but to turn. He turned left.

And I thought about what I'd just done. I had only just met this boy. If anyone at school had made the first move on a guy that quick, it would have been the talk of the whole student body. But I didn't go to school no more. One kiss didn't make me a slut. New town, new me, that's what I told myself.

I checked my make up quickly in my compact, but it was all good.

"So, I guess I oughta ask you. If you wanna go out again?" Sodapop looked a little nervous, I thought. I wondered what kind of girls he usually dated, if a kiss like that wasn't a sign that a girl really liked him.

"Uh huh." I wasn't playing hard to get. '_Yes, please'_ just sounded kind of lame.

"Movies tomorrow? Or whatever you want..."

"Sure. Tomorrow would be good."

He parked out front of Aunt Emma's house. And turned off the engine. This time he leaned in and kissed me. Softer, quicker, but no less good for all that. When he smiled at me, I wondered how I had ever been so focused on my car or on getting to work this morning, because I felt like I could have sat there watching him smile forever. He whispered,

"Uh, Joanne? Your uncle is kind of standing guard in the front door."

I jumped and looked around. "I'd better go in." I rolled my eyes.

"Hang on," Sodapop hurried around the truck and opened my door. "The handle kind of sticks sometimes," he explained as I hopped down.

"Thanks, for showing me around. And for fixing the car this morning." I walked back a step, reluctant to go in.

"'S'okay. I mean, I was glad to. I mean, thank you, for breaking down near the DX."

I laughed as he babbled and I walked about six feet off the ground all the way into the house, right past Uncle Jim.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**:**Thanks everyone - especially if I can't thank you directly! :) Great to have everyone on board. Hope you all still like the way I'm going play this...**

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**Soda**

"Are you high?"

I squinted sideways. Darry was leaning in the bathroom doorway behind me, a real amused look on his face. That didn't make sense if his question was serious, so I figured he was yanking my chain, not freaking for real. I still didn't know why he was asking, so I said, "Huh?" as I spat Colgate into the basin and rinsed my toothbrush.

"You just walked right past me. Like, literally, walked right past me as I was talking. And now you're getting ready to hit the hay?" He looked at his watch. "It's like, ten after ten. That's freaky, even for you."

"I got work in the morning."

"Duh. Don't we all?" He tried to put his hand on my forehead as I came out the bathroom. I knocked his arm away.

"I ain't sick. Leave me alone."

"Did you strike out?" For some reason, this idea seemed to be bringing out the comedian in him and Darry danced from side to side in front of me, stopping me from getting to the bedrooms when I tried to dodge past him. "Pony said you had a date. You're home kind of early."

"Am not. It was a date. We went out to eat and then I took her home."

"And?"

"And nothin'!"

"Nothin'? You're losing your touch, little buddy. Was she not into you? If such a chick exists..."

I paused. Thought about Joanne and the way she kissed me. The way that, even though _she_ definitely kissed _me_, she seemed kind of shocked at herself. I bet she thought she covered that real good, but I knew she wasn't normally that forward with a guy, no matter what sassy front she was putting on. Thinking about her wanting to kiss _me _like that made me want to smile. A lot.

Darry asked me what my date's name was and I told him. He stopped kidding around and he looked at me with a straight face. He wrinkled his eyes up a little, the way Mom used to when she was fixing to see right through my bullshit."Uh huh...So, you like her, this 'Joanne'?"

"I just met her," I bluffed. Freaky him and his freaky Mom-style voodoo.

"Soda, the last coupla chicks you got with, you referred to as 'Yellow dress' and 'Freckles'. An' you reported a helluva lot more than '_we went out to eat and I took her_ _home_'." Darry shrugged. "I'm just looking out for you, is all."

"Me? Why'd I need looking out for?"

He opened his mouth and then closed it again. "No reason." He mussed my hair and shoved me towards my room. "I'm glad you like her. 'S'cool."

I closed my bedroom door and flopped onto the bed. After a minute or so, I realized I'd been staring at Raquel without seeing her. I rolled over and hit the light switch.

xxXxx

It was quiet out front, for a Saturday, so I ducked into the workshop. Steve threw an oily rag at me but I missed the catch, which was the all ammo he needed:

"Did you not get much sleep?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I told him I slept fine.

"And?"

"And what?"

He slid back under the Buick, talking louder to compensate, "The new girl? _Joanne?' _He put on a sappy voice that did not sound a freaking thing like me, although he repeated what I'd said at the DQ the previous evening. "'_That was Joanne._ _I met her at work'_. You know who the hell I'm talking about! You get some, or what?"

"Jeez, I just met her yesterday. We went for somethin' to eat is all."

There was a laugh from under the car, then a moment of silence that I guess Steve was expecting me to fill because he pushed back out and peered up at me. "Did we just Twilight Zone to some freaky universe where sex don't exist?"

"You can't use 'Twilight Zone' as a verb," I commented, stacking some wrenches in a triangle shape that got smaller as they went up.

"Who the fuck _are_ you? And leave the tools alone –"

Too late, the last layer was the killer and the whole pile slid off the bench with a noise like Christmas bells. Steve began cussing me out but I didn't take offence, that's kind of been the background noise to my whole life. I heard the ding from out front and I hopped it over to the pumps.

Four cars rolled in, one by one, then I took a delivery of wipers that had been on back order for like forever, by which time Steve was done with the Buick and had sloped off for a weed, around the side of the workshop. I took him a Pepsi and joined him on the upturned crates we used as seats.

He didn't offer me a smoke, he knew I'd have asked if I was in the mood.

"You gonna see this chick again?"

I nodded. I guess we have this habit of dropping in and out of the same conversation, in between work. "She works at the warehouse." That seemed like a weird first thing to tell him when what I'd been thinking about was how pretty she was.

"Where Darry works? Hughes's?" Steve ground out his weed.

"Yeah, Hughes, that's her uncle. She works in the office."

"Well, I didn't figure she was in the loading bay...wait, her uncle? She, like, some kind of Soc then?" That surprised me until Steve went on, "I mean, they must have money, he owns that place."

I shrugged. It was a nice house, where I picked her up from, but it wasn't that far out of the neighborhood. Maybe her uncle was a Northside boy done good. I shook my head a little at that idea. "Nah, she ain't a Soc. She comes from outta town, up past Claremore. Her folks got a farm up there."

"And she don't put out on the first date..."

"Hell, that don't make her a Soc." I snorted. "Plenty of them do that. Remember that chick with the Corvair?"

"Not as good as you do!"

We laughed some. Then Steve was back on it:

"What's with you an' this new chick? We always told each other everything."

"You liar, Randle, you never told me about you an' Evie."

"I did too!"

"You told me _when_. Not _how_. Not the details."

"Yeah, but me an' Evie, that's different, ain't it." I knew what he was getting at. There were chicks you talked about in bull sessions and chicks you didn't. And your steady girl definitely fell into the more private category. So, while it was no secret that he and Evie slept together, it wasn't like when he spent the night with that skank with the long hair and told me and Two-Bit all the relevant details.

And Joanne wasn't like any of the easy girls I'd been running around with lately.

"I told you," I said. "We went out to eat. I'mma see her again. Why you making a big deal of it?"

"No reason," Steve said, in the exact identical tone that Darry had used. Freaks, the pair of 'em.

xxXxx

I kind of wanted to go on back to the start of the evening.

For one thing, I couldn't make up my mind if it was less tuff to be_ seen_ driving a powder blue Rambler, or to be seen being _driven by a chick_ driving a powder blue Rambler. Either way, I was pissed at Darry for insisting that he needed the truck and trying my damnedest not to show Joanne that I cared. Either way, her perfectly reasonable suggestion, that we take her car, made me look like a prime candy ass, but I couldn't tell her that, especially since she offered for me to drive her pride and joy.

So, I said I didn't want to go to the Admiral Twin anyways, and the Circle was a better bet in cold weather and we should walk there, so she got the lie of the land and whatever else bullshit came into my mind. I kind of felt bad about it, but not as bad as I did when we got to the goddamn movie theater and they were showing two of the most lame-ass, sucky movies of all time.

Joanne looked at the posters. And looked at me. I realized I'd told her that the Circle recycled the best movies. I'd just been trying to snow her, 'cause I knew they wouldn't have the latest releases.

"'_Sex and the Single Girl.' _Believe I saw that already." She didn't look real keen to see it again, neither.

"Elvis then?" I chanced, wondering how I was going to stomach another freaking visit to the World's Stupidest Fair. I never could figure how come Elvis let himself get put in such pansy stories. If I was him, I'd have told them movie people I only wanted to be some kind of cool spy, like James Bond. With explosions. And singing. But only good songs.

Joanne shrugged. I offered to buy her some popcorn, candy, whatever. She was still kind of cool as we went in and that wasn't helped none by Lucy Whateverhername coming right over to us as we looked for seats. I tried to ignore her but she just repeated herself:

"Hey, Sodapop," in her annoying voice.

I grunted hello and nudged Joanne in the other direction, over to where there were a couple of seats in back.

Joanne nodded towards Lucy, who'd sloped back to the chicks she was sitting with. "Friend of yours?"

"Nah," I explained.

"Ex?"

"Nah. We went to a party, is all. Well, not exactly that. I mean,_ I_ went to a party and she was already there and we... I mean, that was...I don't even know when. Back in the summer?" Shit. That didn't sound good, even to my own ears. I shut up and rubbed my arm while I tried to think of something smart to say.

See, there was this weird vibe between me and Joanne. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I was pretty sure there was a big difference between all the chicks like Lucy, who knew me and probably always had known me, and Joanne. If I'd come in here on my own and Lucy had come over, like she just did, well, no conversation needed. We would probably have just eased into a little making out. 'Cause she was a known quantity and so was I.

But for some reason I felt like I should explain myself to Joanne, only I didn't really want to. Not if explaining myself meant confessing that I'd been in that chick's underwear one time but I wasn't real sure what her last name was. That ought to have been a 'reflection on Lucy's character' – that was how my mom would have described it – but I was feeling that it was saying the same thing about me. Pretty much. And I kind of didn't want Joanne to know I was some sort of hound.

"Did you hurt yourself at work?"

I jumped back out of my thoughts. Joanne was watching me rub my arm.

"Oh, no. It don't really hurt. I broke it in a drag race at New Year's, when I rolled the car. Still feels a bit weird, from time to time –" I heard myself, too late. Now I was a _drag racing_ skirt chaser and not even a successful one, since I trashed the car in question. I reckoned I was about five seconds from sitting in the theater on my own.

"Did you see '_Flaming Star'_?"

I believe I said something sharp like, "Huh?"

Joanne jerked her thumb at the screen, where the movie was starting. "Elvis. In '_Flaming Star'_. You see that one?"

I nodded.

"He was good, huh? That was like a proper movie. How come he don't do more like that, d'ya think? Why all these crazy movies?"

I took a coupla breaths, to get used to the idea that she wasn't walking out on me.

"Oh. Unless...I mean. D'you like these kind of movies?" She was embarrassed enough to blush a little, I thought.

I told her no. I did not like these kind of movies. Didn't tell her I wasn't all fired up by many movies, 'less there was plenty of explosions to keep me interested. Pony told me once that chicks dig a movie with a story best of all, so I oughta stay quiet about explosions and gunfights and stuff. I might have told him that kind of made him a chick, which led to a pretty good scuffle, if I remember right.

But not digging pansy singing movies still wasn't the right answer, it seemed, because now Joanne was back to looking mighty frosty.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I figured there'd be something better showing."

"Like Natalie Wood on the other screen? You trying to be clever?"

Why? Oh. '_Sex and the Single Girl'_. Shit. Did that seem like I was reflecting on _her_ character? All of what she said the day before about getting her own apartment and such?

"No. Not clever. One thing you ain't gonna be able to accuse me of, is being clever," I told her truthfully. "I just wanted to walk over here, because I couldn't have the truck tonight and_ I_ wanted to be the one taking _you_ out. I had no idea what was playing."

She wrinkled up her nose as she thought that through. Jeez, she was cute.

"So, you just didn't want to go out in my car?"

I shrugged, but it was the kind of shrug that says 'Yes'.

Joanne rolled her eyes. "Well, you oughta just say so, next time. I don't care where we go."

Next time? Next time! _All right_. I leaned in and put my arm around her shoulders. "You know where we oughta -"

"Shut up!" someone in front called back to us. I flicked a piece of popcorn in their general direction and felt Joanne chuckle.

"Shh," she whispered, pretending to look stern.

I leaned in to kiss her, whispering, "I can do quiet." I kissed her.

She kissed me back. "Quiet is good." By that point I'd lost track of who was kissing who, but it didn't matter one freaking bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jo**

None of my brothers were much interested in talking to me on the phone, whenever I called home. I did get mail from Chris, my youngest brother, but that was more in the way of a begging letter, being as how it listed the finer points of some catcher's mitt that a kid at school was selling and for which he needed me to lend him, or just plain give him, the dough. I did feel sorry for him. By the time anything had been handed down from the other three to him, it was pretty worn out. 'One previous owner' was as good as brand new. I sent him a dollar and told him to get a part time job, which I thought was more than fair, since the rest of us always had. That was the only time I heard from any of the boys.

So, when I called my mom one evening, I was expecting to speak to Audrey too, but for some reason Gary was demanding to speak to me as well, when Mom was done. Whoever got their turn first was apparently being settled by them fighting for the receiver, because for the first minute all I could hear was knocks, bumps and annoyed exclamations. Gary won for a second, because he started up with:

"_Hey, sis, what's this_-"

"_Don't listen to him!"_ Audrey broke in. "_I think it's peachy_-"

"_Don't you tell her not to listen to me. If there's some sleaze sniffing around..."_

"_You know that's not what Aunt Emma said..."_

I stuck two fingers in my mouth and whistled down the line, in a sharp burst. "Shut up, both of y'all. What're you talking about?"

Audrey must have wrestled the phone back. "_Aunt Em told Mom that you got a boyfriend."_

"_Yeah, some idiot called Bubblegum. You gone crazy, Joey, you datin' some kind of hippie fool?"_ Gary yelped and I imagined Audrey pinching him. That was her favorite way to keep the boys in line. I guessed they were sharing, the phone between their heads now.

"His name is _not_ Bubblegum. And he ain't a hippie. You'd like him, Gary. He used to rodeo. He works in a garage."

_"He good looking, like Aunt Emma said?"_ Trust Audrey to worry about that. Although, exactly when had all this information about Soda been passed home? I frowned at the closed kitchen door. Soda had been invited in for coffee and cake when he came to pick me up last week- he told me later that he'd been prepared for some kind of inspection–and Aunt Emma had said afterwards that she liked his manners and that he seemed like a 'nice young man'. _That_, I would've been happy for her to tell Mom.

I told Audrey, yes, Soda was good looking, to shut her up. And said that he was real nice, to pacify Gary.

"_He'd better be, 'cause I'm ready to come down and teach these wise guy city assholes a lesson, you just say the word." _This was my brother who once sat up all night with a sick dog, so it wouldn't be alone, offering to come beat up the residents of Tulsa. I told him, thank you, but I was perfectly okay and nobody needed any lessons teaching.

Audrey made me promise to send a photo, so she could see Soda for herself. I hoped she couldn't hear me roll my eyes. Sometimes she acted more like nine than nineteen.

It all made me kind of homesick, more than I had been so far. I guess I wasn't very good at hiding it, either, because when Soda picked me up he took about three seconds to ask me if anything was wrong.

"We don't haveta to do this. I was only kidding about a return inspection." He looked genuinely worried. We were on our way to his house. I made an effort to convince him that I really wanted to meet his brothers. Told him I was just missing home. He nodded and I knew from the look in his eyes that he really did understand. Somehow he seemed to get me, maybe more than anyone ever had.

I was real curious about Soda's place. I had tried to imagine what our house would look like, if only my brothers lived in it. God knew their bedrooms were disgusting enough. When Mom made Audrey and me change the sheets and vacuum in there it was best to open the windows first. How come the boys never had to pick up in mine and Audrey's room, that's what I wanted to know. Mom just laughed and I figured she was happy raising another generation of fools who thought all housework got done by magic cleaning fairies while they were out doing 'man's' work'. For sure neither my dad nor my step-dad ever felt the need to learn how the washer worked.

But Soda's house was okay. The neighborhood was a little run down and none of the houses on the street were anything fancy, but inside it was pretty straight.

I'd expected the hard one to meet would be Soda's big brother. Kind of like he'd be the parent, I guess. Like Uncle Jim, that first night, or Aunt Emma last week, asking Soda all about himself and what not. But Darry turned out to be a real sweetheart.

He made Soda hang up my jacket and fetch me a drink and I suppose that was kind of Dad-like, but otherwise he was nice as pie. He asked how I liked Tulsa—I was getting used to fielding that question—and he laughed when he found out where Soda had been taking me to eat, telling him to 'think outside the pizza box', which I thought was funny.

No, Darry wasn't any kind of problem. What I hadn't been expecting was the reception I got from Ponyboy. I realized that I'd probably ignored him that first day back in the Dairy Queen. I honestly didn't remember anyone being there, apart from Soda. But I figured Ponyboy would be like Chris, since they weren't that far apart in age, and be just generally yukked out by the whole idea of boy and girlfriends and maybe he'd ignore me right back.

As far as conversation went, he pretty much did. He barely spoke the whole time I was there. But I caught more than one look that spoke volumes; mostly '_don't like you, don't want you here'_ volumes. I wondered if he was jealous of me, the time I was spending with Soda. I knew that they were close. Soda had told me about his folks and also that he had lost two friends in tragic circumstances. He implied that Ponyboy had needed a lot of support. I tried to be charitable in my thoughts, but it was never in my nature to suck up to people, so I didn't bother to include him in my comments when it became obvious he wasn't going to join in the conversation.

I didn't need to worry for too long anyway, because Soda and I were going out. And that made me equally as nervous as I'd been about meeting Darry and Pony. Because we weren't going out alone.

We waited on his porch for our ride and I noticed that Soda was sneaking looks at me.

"What?" I asked, touching my hair self consciously. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head and grinned. "Not a thing."

"Well, stop!" Pulling a face at him distracted me and I didn't notice a car pull up, until a shout from the street made both of us look up.

The dark haired guy hanging over the roof of the car made an impatient gesture. "You coming, or what?"

Soda took my hand and pulled me with him down the porch steps. He introduced me and jerked his thumb at the guy. "This is Steve," he said, yanking the back door open then ducking inside after me, "and this is Evie." He grinned at the chick in the front seat.

I nodded hello and tried for a smile. This was why I was nervous. In our half dozen dates, I figured I'd heard Steve's name at least as often as Soda mentioned his two brothers, but this was the first time he'd brought us all together. I'd particularly asked him about the other girl we'd be doubling with. He'd shrugged and told me:

"_Evie? She's cool. She's, like, the best thing that ever happened to Steve." _

I thought that was an interesting way for Soda to categorize his buddy's girl and I hoped that Steve would feel the same about me. Because I wanted to be Sodapop's girl. A half dozen dates was one thing. 'Steady' was another. Neither of us had said anything approaching that word, but he had to feel it too, didn't he? Or was I being completely idiotic?

For his part, Soda's best friend didn't seem too worried about meeting me at all. His attention was on gunning the engine of his car and shooting us away from the curb in one blast of acceleration.

"How you liking Tulsa?" Evie was twisted around with her arm on the back of the seat as she regarded us—no, _me_—with heavily eyelinered eyes. Steady hands required for those babies, I knew without asking. She looked real put together with her makeup and her short, short hair. I didn't think anyone back home had such a modern cut. I resisted the urge to smooth my hair again.

"I like it fine." It sounded lame as soon as I answered her.

"I like it better myself just lately," Soda chipped in, sliding his arm around my shoulders. I looked into his beautiful eyes and smiled back at him. It was impossible not to, when he radiated happiness the way he did.

When we got to the roadhouse, I tried not to stare at Evie's skirt, what there was of it. She was shorter than me but there was a whole lot more leg on show. The band was already playing, but Soda and Steve pushed through the crowd and found us a table, then disappeared towards the bar.

The second they came back, Evie jumped up, tossing her purse onto the table. "Let's dance," she said, with a wriggle of her hips.

"Or not." Steve dropped into a chair and put down the bottles of beer he'd been carrying.

Evie pulled a face and shimmied right up close to him, teasingly calling him 'baby' and laughing out loud when he grabbed her and yanked her down onto his lap.

"Dance all you like, right here," he said in a blatantly suggestive tone. Then he smiled at her—the first time I'd seen him crack his face—and he suddenly looked almost handsome. Evie slapped his arm affectionately and took a swig of beer.

"Steve don't like to dance much," she told me, then glanced to where Soda was poised on the edge of his seat, tapping his foot as his eyes roamed the dance floor. "This the first time you two been dancin'?" Evie asked, with a wicked gleam in her eye. I nodded, hoping the lie wouldn't show on my face. It wasn't really 'dancing' but on our last date, our first trip out to the lake, when we'd been listening to the radio in the truck, Soda had suggested we get out and we'd slow danced, holding each other close. It was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me and no way was I about to discuss it with someone I'd only just met. Evie looked at my shoes. "Hope those are comfortable."

Before I could ask why, Soda was up. The band had started a new number and he took my hand and found us a space on the dance floor.

I'd always liked dancing. Audrey and I shared a record player and we practised before every school or church social and I'd never been a wallflower. But dancing with Sodapop Curtis turned out to be something else entirely. If he span me, it was only to grab me closer on the return. And when we were in hold—for a _fast_ number—it was nothing like any dance I'd ever danced before, because we seemed to be doing a variation on the Twist, only with our legs entwined. Somehow he'd maneuvered his thigh between mine.

I saw other couples doing the same kind of thing, but I wasn't sure if that made it better or worse, to be so close to Soda while he moved us around with his hips. But he grinned that grin and I started laughing at the sheer fun of trying to keep up with him.

Eventually, even Soda got tired and we eased through the crowd on the floor, back to the table. There was another couple there now; a girl with an impressive, although obviously bleached, blonde beehive and a guy with reddish sideburns whose long legs stretched in front of the spare seats, requiring Soda to kick him so that we could sit. More drinks had appeared as well, and I gratefully took a glass of Coke that Evie offered me, as Soda introduced me to the new arrivals.

"How those heels holding up?" asked Evie, a little slyly. I coughed some. The glass contained more than Coca Cola. I told her I was just fine.

"Yeah? You know he won't stop unless you tell him to?" She waved her hand at where Soda was talking to the other guys. "He will literally dance your feet off unless you distract him with something else, like..." she leaned forward a little and randomly shouted, "Corvette!"

Soda and Steve snapped their heads around and she broke into a peal of laughter.

Steve made a point of moving Evie's glass away from her and she complained loudly that she was not drunk. "Although I might as well get that way, if you're just gonna sit there all night."

"Aw, Steve forgot his dancin' shoes again?" said the new guy. "You wanna dance, Tink?" I knew his name wasn't really Two-Bit, Soda had talked about him already, but I had no idea who he was talking to until Evie leaped out of her seat and took him up on his offer. They were a mismatched couple, him being so tall and her so tiny, but they made up for that with enthusiasm.

The blonde girl, Kathy, was finishing a cigarette, grinding it into the ashtray. "Mind if I borrow your partner?" she said to me, as she tapped Soda on the shoulder and nodded her head at the dance floor. He shot a look at me, but I said I didn't mind. I nearly regretted that when she stood up and her dress made Evie's skirt look matronly. It was highly likely that she'd be flashing her underwear, if she moved too much while dancing. Holy cow, but these girls made me feel like I was dressed for a church picnic. I needed to find a dress shop and fast.

A little flame of jealousy was rising, I realized, while I watched Soda and Kathy dancing, even though he wasn't anywhere like as 'up close' with her as he had been with me. Jealousy was a new sensation for me. I wasn't sure what I would do if Evie asked to dance with him too. It might seem mean, since her boyfriend wasn't doing much to partner her.

I realized I was sitting at the table with Steve. Just the two of us. And I hadn't said a word to him.

When I turned in my seat I saw he was leaning back, _lounging _even, a beer bottle in his hand, not especially watching the dancing in front of us. It seemed to strike him that we weren't conversing, like it had me. He sat up a little.

"So...uh...Soda says you got a Nash Rambler." It was almost a question, so I answered as if it was. He nodded back. "You get good mileage?"

I had no idea. I put gas in when it got low.

"It's like the one Lois Lane drives," I informed him, for no reason that came immediately to mind. "You know. On the TV show."

Steve gave a little snort of laughter.

"It belonged to a lady at home who hadda quit driving. My brothers and sister got it for me. To come here." I shut up before I could say anything else stupid. Like '_it's blue'_. Then I suddenly had a thought. According to Soda, Steve was some kind of god when it came to cars. I took a deep breath and asked, "You think you could sell it for me?"

That made him blink at me, in surprise.

"Only," I carried on headlong, "I don't know about cars an' such...but it's real clean and everything. Maybe you could help me switch it for some other model?"

"Why?"

"Soda doesn't like it."

He bit his lip, but I couldn't work out if he wanted to laugh or something else. "Soda don't like it?" he repeated slowly.

I nodded, miserably. "I think it ain't very..."

"Tuff," Steve supplied. "No, it ain't exactly that. But why the hell would you sell a perfectly good car, for Soda's opinion?" I felt myself blush as he stared at me. Why would I, indeed? Because I didn't like the idea that any single thing about me would make Soda unhappy? Because I wanted us to go out to the lake he had just showed me, again and again and again, and I was too impatient to hang around for the nights he got to use the pick up? The blush crept up again. I settled for shrugging at Steve.

He sipped his beer again, still looking puzzled. I reached for the not-quite-cola, for something to do, managing not to splutter this time around. It wasn't like I was a baby, I just hadn't been expecting the whisky additive last time.

Steve's eyes suddenly lit up, although he didn't move. By the time I'd glanced around, the others were coming back and Evie was on his lap again, kissing him extravagantly. Kathy and Two-Bit were similarly reacquainting themselves after their long time apart.

"Animals. All of 'em," whispered Soda in my ear, his arm sliding around my shoulders. I smiled at him. He bent even closer, his words barely audible over the music. "Is it okay if I only dance with you, the rest of the night?"

I leaned back into his embrace. "I insist on it," I told him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, Josefin, thinking about you googling the car made me smile! (I agree, it's hideous!) **

**Thanks to ****all ****guest reviewers, I appreciate your taking the time to comment even if I can't reply/discuss things with you. I'm never going to write a 'perfect' Soda, because that's not how I see him, but funnily enough, the 'car' issue was already in the process of being addressed...**

* * *

**Soda**

It was Steve turning eighteen that got the topic started, of course. 'The topic' being the goddamn draft. Not something to give the evening a real romantic groove, but that was okay. We were comfortable all the same, cuddled up in the Rambler, the radio on low and the lake all misty in front of us. Chicks dig mist, I've noticed. It usually reminds me of creepy movies but they reckon it's romantic or some such shit.

Yeah, we were in the Rambler. Steve had been fairly plain spoken about what he called my 'complete and utter dickness' in not going out in Jo's car. Told me she was prepared to sell it, for me. Well, first he told me it was 'cause she'd said it didn't match my eyes, but I called bullshit on that and he filled me in on the truth. I discovered that it mattered more to me that she was sad about it, than it did to be seen in what I still considered a pansy car.

Of course, I secretly thought Steve didn't _really_ get where I was coming from, seeing as he already had his own precious cherried-out baby. I started saving again, to get my own wheels. I forget what I needed the last jar of nickels and dimes for, but I was starting over from empty.

So we were in Jo's car. I got to drive, so's I could pick a good spot. Joanne _asked_ for us to come back to the lake, but I knew she didn't mean anything by it. She didn't have the same kind of code going on that a North side chick would've, how could she? She thought it was a nice place to go, is all. So I made no move towards the back seat and we didn't make out past a little kissing. And then we got to talking about Steve's upcoming party and then we got onto the draft.

Jo chewed her lip in a way that managed to be both shy and sexy, as she told me she wasn't worried about her brothers.

I mean, I knew her kid brother was only just thirteen, so she probably wouldn't have to think about him anyways, so I agreed it was likely the whole deal in Vietnam would be done by the time he finished school.

"You must think that for Ponyboy, too."

That shocked me. I had genuinely never made that leap in my head from Pony being the kid he was, to him turning eighteen. Not in relation to the draft. But I knew the answer anyway. "He'll be sweet. He's going to college." Done deal. There was a reason Darry sat up late at night, balancing check books and shit. Although, if even Mom and Dad couldn't get the money to stretch for _him_—and Darry had a scholarship, too—I wondered how it would actually work for Pony. Maybe that savings jar I had earmarked for my wheels would have to be redistributed. I could try for extra shifts, maybe.

"He's smart, huh?" Jo smiled. I knew I'd yakked on about exactly how smart Pony was. Probably bored her half to death.

I still didn't get why her older brothers weren't worrying her. Jo shifted slightly in my arms.

"Aw, it's kind of..." She looked almost guilty, smoothing the material of her skirt. "I feel kind of crappy 'bout it, 'cause of what we were just saying about Steve. And Two-Bit, he'll be out of school soon, too." And I'd be eighteen soon enough, her eyes said to me, plain as day. I waited her out and she explained, "Thing is, the draft panel at home, it's the mayor and our doctor. They were kind of...my dad's best friends. They grew up together. After he died, they told Mom she didn't need to worry about losing any of the boys."

"Christ. Can they do that?"

Jo shrugged. "I guess. Is that real bad? I mean, I know it ain't fair, but I'm still glad about it."

I didn't have to think about it long. "It ain't bad at all. I think any one of us would take that deal." I knew all the tricks people talked about, to get out of going after their name came up, but I never knew that it could work like that, to not get drafted in the first place. But, fuck yes, if any of us knew the right people, wouldn't we be happy to have a few strings pulled?

The six months between me and Steve had never seemed so big as it did when I thought about the fact that he'd be signing on at the Selective Service office before me. Maybe he'd been thinking about it too. Maybe that's why he'd agreed to this party his mom was hosting, because he wasn't usually the party type, not in his own honor anyway, and this sounded like it was going to be a blast.

I was real curious. Evie had let slip one or two comments that Steve hadn't exactly denied. He never let her use the word 'Soc', but it sounded pretty fancy down at his mom's pad, all the same. Plus I wanted to see his kid brothers, so bad.

I filled Jo in on the history between Steve and his mom, because it was a weird situation, for them to have only been back in touch a few months. I knew Jo would feel bad if she said something out of turn.

The way things worked out, that was the last thing I should have worried about.

xxXxx

My big brother has this _look_. Like he not only knows I'm snowing him – _that _part he got from mom—but like he's expecting what I just said to be only the tip of the iceberg. That's his own special variation. And boy, was he right this time, 'cause there was one hell of an iceberg waiting, once I got started on what exactly happened and why I was home a little soused because we'd had to do _something_ to salvage the day for Steve, hadn't we, an' Two-Bit knew a guy who let us have some booze for cost—

"Wait. Stop." Darry closed his eyes for a second, as he held up his hand. "Are you telling me you weren't at Steve's mom's all this time?" Like it was late, or something. Well, it was a little late. But I was quiet getting in, I never woke up Pony or nothing.

I eased down from the couch to the floor and stretched my legs out. Sometimes it seems like the floor is more comfortable. Told Darry that we'd been at The Dingo, and the park, and a couple of other places after we dropped the girls home, because the party had been a bust and we didn't want Steve to go home without he was properly celebrated.

"How was the party a bust?" Of course he wanted to know. I groaned. How to even explain?

"It was freaky from the get go." I tried to do what Two-Bit would call 'setting the scene'. "I mean, man, the house was, like, real Socy. I mean like something on the TV. Like Samantha's house in the witch show, y'know? There was this dresser just for the booze. All kinds of bottles on show."

He rolled his eyes. "A cocktail cabinet, you mean?"

"Whatever. Booze and glasses all lined up. Yeah, cocktails I guess." I shook my head. "But it wasn't even just that." I was frustrating myself, with my inability to describe everything that was wrong with that freaking house. Only it wasn't the house, if I was honest. What the fuck did the house have to do with it, when the real issue was Steve and how they treated him?

Darry seemed like he was listening but how to make sure he was really getting it?

I took a breath. "Steve's mom seems like a real fancy lady." It killed me not to say 'Soc' but I was trying to lay it out, real careful. "An' it seemed like it mattered to her, showing him off to her friends. But she didn't dig the whole greaser vibe, looked down her nose at all of us, y'know?"

He was getting it. He sat forward in the armchair, listening hard.

"They invited these people. With kids our age. Like Socy kids. An' the one, William, he was all over Two-Bit's booze. I mean, he got totally crocked. They blamed us. An' the chick was a skank—" I had a flashback to how angry Jo had been. There was no other way to describe that Deedee, she was skanky through and through.

That's when Darry broke out another one of his looks, more along the lines of '_What the hell did you do?_'

I held up my hands. "Swear to God, Dar'. I went to the bathroom is all, an' this chick followed me. Offered to go down on me right there." Darry's eyebrows went even higher. I nodded. "_I swear I never touched her_. Jo was right outside and this chick was still all over me, so when the old dude started in on the girls—"

"_What?" _

I gathered my thoughts again. "So first this dude, some friend of theirs, is perving all over Kathy and Evie, right? Then, when we're out front with the car—did I tell you they tried to give Steve a Mustang?" Darry shook his head real slow. Jeez. There was a lot to tell. "Steve kicked off. Said he wasn't a Soc an' his mom was ashamed of him being a greaser, and she was all, 'You can do better' and he was all, 'I'm happy with my life'. Then _she's_ bawling, the _kids_ are bawling..."

At that point, the look on Darry's face was a new kind of look. I wasn't sure what this one meant. He made a winding back gesture, "What about the old guy and the girls?"

I blew out a long breath. "Man, the skanky daughter bitched about our girls standing up to her and _he_ said that Kathy was—you know Kathy? Two-Bit's Kathy?—he said she was white trash and dressed like a slut, and then, he starts in on Evie too, an' Steve went wild, so..." Truth be told, I wasn't feeling too great about the next part. My part. "So, we got Steve in the car but as we were booking it I told the guy he was wrong and his daughter wasn't no saint herself."

"You did what?" Darry's voice had got kind of small. For him.

I absolutely had to defend what I did. "Man, you had to be there. This old guy was basically calling our girls whores, I wasn't gonna let that slide. So I said his daughter wasn't no Snow White, on account of what she offered to do to me, an' he oughta think about that."

"Jesus, Soda."

"What? I shoulda let him run the girls down?"

Darry shook his head. "No. No way. But... this was out front of Steve's mom's house?"

I nodded, feeling kind of sick about that fact. "Aw, man. I can't even believe everything that his mom said to Steve..." I filled Darry in on all the shit she loaded on Steve. About how he was basically white trash too but she was offering him a way out of the neighborhood. I didn't expect Darry to have any excuse for it, nor any explanation, not really. I ended up just swallowing the last of it. "All this time they lost an' she still wasn't happy. I wanted it be really..."

"Perfect. You wanted things perfect for Steve."

"Not even that. Who believes in perfect, for Chrissakes? It was just so unfair. After he...I mean, he..." I found it hard to meet Darry's eye even though he hadn't gone ape on me for all I'd told him so far. But what I really wanted to say, what I was really feeling, was the thing that had started eating at me on the drive home. The thing that, under all the horsing around and defending our greasiness an' all, the thing that had really burned me and I probably wouldn't ever be able to tell Steve...I opened my mouth, but Darry got there first, his voice still quiet:

"He got his mom back."

I nodded. I knew he could see that I had tears in my eyes. I was going for a World Record in not blinking, though. "It oughta be a good thing. The best thing. But she..." I choked out.

Darry did me the favor of not looking at me any longer. He looked at the carpet between his feet, repeating what I'd said, "_So unfair_. You'd think we'd be used to that by now." And I couldn't bring myself to work out what that particular look on his face meant.

xxXxx

I'd told Darry, 'yeah, yeah' when he said I oughta hit the hay, then I must've fallen asleep on the floor anyway. When the phone rang, I rolled right over to it. It was Jo. She was talking kind of quiet.

"Can you come over?"

"Now?"

"Please, Soda?"

It was just after three in the morning. Darry would freak if he knew I'd gone out again. But the one and a half rings didn't seem to have woken either of my brothers, the house was still silent.

I went right over, what else would I do?

My language took a turn for the worse when I pulled onto Joanne's street and saw her on the sidewalk, standing a house down from her aunt's place. "The hell you doing?" I demanded at the same time as she explained, "I didn't want the truck to wake Uncle Jim. Back up the street a ways."

There was a kindergarten or something over the next intersection, so I pulled the truck up in the lot there, where no neighbor's windows could spy on us. I turned to Jo, hacked enough to snap at her, "You can't be standing on the street in the middle of the night! Any number of hoods coulda jumped you."

"I didn't see a soul until you showed up." Not the point and I still wasn't happy. She sighed. "I couldn't sleep. I keep thinking about this afternoon..." She sniffed me, suddenly suspicious. "Oh, Lord, Soda. Were you drinking? Should you be driving?"

Chicks! _She_ called me over. Did she expect me to walk, at three a.m.? Just because the streets around _her_ pad were quiet at night! I told her I was perfectly fine and truthfully, I felt it. Three hours' sleep and the hit of cold night air had sobered me up. "What did you expect? You call me, like some kind of emergency, should I just stroll along...?" I felt like a real prick when her lip wobbled. "I wasn't that loaded," I backtracked. "It's my shirt you can smell, I spilled a shot on it. Are you okay? Why'd you call me anyway?"

Joanne flung herself at me, hugging me tight around the neck. Then kissing me. Which was real nice but still didn't answer the question. Then it got _real_ real nice, to the point where I almost forgot there'd been a question.

It was the fact that she put her hand on me that woke me up. I mean, _on_ _me_. Over the fly but still on me. We hadn't done that yet. We'd got some kissing and cuddling going on, most usually up at the lake and I wasn't exactly unhappy with where I'd gotten, but she hadn't had her hands in my pants—I hadn't asked her to, hadn't expected her to. Yet.

"Wait a sec," I told her, moving us apart a little. "What's going on?"

"Don't you wanna?" she challenged.

I nearly laughed. "Here? In front of the pre-school?"

"Well, drive us somewhere. The lake. Wherever."

"What's gotten into you?" I was thrown by all this, it was almost like I was still sleeping, like it wasn't real. I liked Joanne, so much. I didn't feel like any kind of saint but I liked that she made me think about her, that when we were out I was thinking about her, not just how much I could get and how quickly. That used to be important. I remembered a particular bull session, way back, when Dally reckoned he'd timed some chick, from the first hello to when he got in her underwear—actually set a clock on her. I knew that I'd probably broken his record at some point in the last six months, only it didn't seem like anything to boast about now.

"Are you my boyfriend?" Joanne countered my question. "Are we going steady?"

Steady? Well, yeah. I hadn't looked at another chick since the first time I took Jo out. Well..._Looking's_ kind of hard to define, ain't it? I mean, a person can't go around with his eyes closed, but there's looking and_ looking_, y'dig? And I hadn't been _looking_.

Jo was still waiting on an answer. I nodded. "'Course we are. Steady. Yup. Don't you think?"

"So, don't you wanna? Like, what she said, this afternoon..." When I didn't catch on, asked her 'who?' Jo clicked her tongue, annoyed. "That..._girl_ this afternoon." The way she said 'girl' was like it was a dirty word. Which worked for me, given the girl she was referring to.

"The skank? Didn't I say what I thought of her? Didn't I make it clear I thought she was disgusting?"

"But you've had girls who've done that."

There was no question there, so I wasn't real sure how to answer, whether to answer, to be honest.

"So, if I'm your girlfriend, why wouldn't we?" She was ticked off for real, but I still couldn't work out how to answer.

"Because," I tried, "you're not that kind of girl."

"What kind of girl? Kathy's kind? Evie's? Am I so different just because I never did it yet?"

Holy shit. HOLY. SHIT. The scale of sluttiness I'd been going by just got completely blown out the water. I'd thought she was kind of shy. I'd thought she was 'nicer' than the average North side girl—nothing bad against Evie, or even Lucy whateverhername an' the others—but North side girls knew the score at a way younger age than Jo. I just hadn't quite realized..._At all_? She never had sex, _at all_?

Back in the moment, Jo was still kind of pissed. "Sure didn't seem like I was any different to those people this afternoon, that man seemed to think we were all the same kind of girl."

"He was a prick! What he said was completely out of line."

"But what about your other girlfriends? Or any of the chicks I see, checking you out. They would...do those things. They would...go all the way..."

"Yeah, but I don't love any of them, do I?" I countered, thinking how adorable she was trying to sound tough and stumbling over calling it 'going all the way'.

Jo put her hand over her mouth, said, "Oh!" in a tiny voice.

I said, "What?"

Her eyes were about the size of dinner plates.

Oh. Yeah. I realized what I'd said. "Is that okay? That I said that?"

"Is it true?"

"That I love you?" I nodded at her, knowing there was now a huge smile on my face that I had no control over.

She said, "Oh!" again, just as quiet.

"So, here's the thing. I ain't gonna go off with some slutty girl 'cause she lets me...do whatever it is you think you oughta be doing an' I ain't gonna—"

"I love you too!" That was considerably louder and Jo looked even more shocked, this time at her herself.

"Well, alright." _YesYesYesYesYes!_ I pulled her into a hug. Like a nice hug. Not a making out kind of grope, just a nice, comfortable, arms-around-each-other cuddle. "Then we're set. Don't need to be doing anything just 'cause anyone else does it, right?" Not if you never...not if you _never_...

Jo nodded against me and I felt like I'd done a good thing. I imagined Dally laughing at me, back in the day, back when we were mostly talk. Back when the idea of any chick offering us a blow job would have been our idea of heaven. Only Joanne wasn't just 'any chick'.

xxXxx

I am real good at sneaking in the house. Or out. But since this was my second time returning home that night, I made extra sure to be quiet. Right up until there was a movement in my room as I closed the door real slow and careful.

"Shit! Pony! What the hell?" I jumped about a mile. He was sitting on Darry's old bed. I shucked off my clothes and rolled under my own blankets, to get warm. "What do you want?"

"Where'd you get to?" Damn. Maybe the phone had woken him. I told him I went to see Jo and he pulled a face. "I hope she's worth it, if Darry finds out you were driving around half the night." Before I could answer he followed up with a mutter that sounded like _'I hope she's worth it, period._'

"What's your damage? You only met her once. She's real nice."

Pony gave me a hard stare. "You sure about that?" and for one second I thought he was going to tell me something awful that he knew about Joanne. But that was impossible so I waited him out. "Seems like you an' she are going pretty steady," he said. "Seems like she's got you hooked."

I let out a snort of laughter. "So what if we are?"

"Maybe you wanna slow down some?"

"Are _you_ giving _me_ advice about girls, kid brother?" Priceless!

A scowl joined the stare. "Soda. I'm just saying...it didn't work out so well last time you had a steady—"

"Shut up," I cut across him, sitting up to face him properly. "You shut your mouth. You don't know nothin' about it. That was different. Completely different."

"You said you loved her. You loved Sandy. You wanted to marry her. And she went and ripped your heart out—"

"Say what? You been reading too many romance novels, nobody ripped anybody's heart out—"

"Soda." My turn to shut up when he said my name like that, all quiet, calling me out for lying. He was still wrong though. What happened with Sandy was too complicated for me to explain to him, maybe too complicated for me to get my head around. But I knew, I _knew_, that Jo was different. Jesus, I hadn't even known how different, but now that I did...

I hadn't brought another girl home since Sandy, that was probably what Pony was worried about. Although he knew I'd been playing around in between. But those girls weren't important. It was easy to keep them at a distance. No one night stand ever ripped anyone's heart out.

"Would you rather," I asked Pony, "that I never had a steady girl again? That I spend the rest of my life in random hook ups?"

"The rest of your life? Fuck's sake, Soda, you're seventeen! But yes, I would rather you carry on screwing around, than see you hurt because you think you're gonna marry some chick who actually doesn't give a damn."

"Jo ain't like that. She's a nice girl."

Pony rolled his eyes. "Sure. An' you're gonna get married and live happy ever after..."

"No." I heard myself say. "No, I don't think so." I heard myself say it—hard on the heels of Jo and me telling each other that we loved each other, for God's sake—and I knew it was true. Because she was a nice girl.

Too nice for me.

Pony lay down, yawning. "Well, as long as you got your head screwed right." I figured he was going to sleep there, since his eyes were closing. It happened occasionally when we were talking, nights. I lay down too.

"Pony," I asked sleepily. "You even had a girlfriend yet?" But all I got in reply was a snore.

* * *

**A/N: So, here's the thing. I don't think I want to just repeat scenes from Evie's stories. Did Soda _talking_ about the party work for you, instead of experiencing the scene as it happened, from his POV? Opinions welcome! (and...just in case someone's reading this, who wasn't into Evie, it corresponds to Chapters 4 &amp; 5 of Our One Rule, where the party happens! **** )**


	5. Chapter 5

**Panda Bear, hello! **

**Josefin – oh, I like that take, 'everyone but Soda' still hung up on Sandy. That's very true in a lot of ways.**

**Thanks, Guests. **

* * *

**Jo**

I was feeling a bit more with it, these days. I'd found a hip boutique in the new shopping center and I was giving Evie a run for her money in the legs-on-show department. Not Kathy. I wasn't ever going to have the guts to wear what she wore. But I didn't feel so much the 'country cousin' any more when we went out as a group.

Well, maybe except at The Dingo. That was the roughest place I'd ever been. Some of the girls there were downright scary looking and there were scuffles almost every time we were there—one night I saw a guy use a switchblade, actually _use_ it, to cut some other guy's arm, not just wave it around like they mostly did. Kathy laughed when she saw how shocked I was and told some story about her brother and a highly unlikely number of stitches, received and inflicted.

"Is her brother really as bad as that?" I whispered to Soda.

"Yup, he's a real hood. Uh, I don't know him," he added quickly. "But, see that kid?" He pointed out a young guy with grease practically dripping from his curly hair. "_His_ brother has this scar right down his face. He's gone in the army now, but he was pretty tough, you wouldn't wanna cross him. He probably gave Kathy's brother some of his stitches, back in the day. Shepards and Kings ain't exactly friends."

I'd given up trying to keep track of who was whose enemy in this crazy place. It freaked me out, when Soda told me what had happened to his friends the previous year. _People died_. Whenever I saw Two-Bit play with his switchblade—truthfully I'd only ever seen him use it to open packs of candy and cigarettes—it made me wonder how close Ponyboy had been when their friend stabbed a boy. _To death_. How could anyone see that happen and then go on with normal life?

Not to mention their other friend, Dallas. Whenever his name came up, and it did, although not regularly, something happened to Soda. He would hold his breath for a second, even if he then continued the conversation like nothing was wrong. I don't think he knew he was doing it, any more than Steve knew that he blinked really fast and cleared his throat. I wanted to ask Evie about it, but I was nervous to, afraid that it would seem like I was being ghoulish. None of them ever talked directly about it, not as a group.

Sometimes when I looked around The Dingo, I tried to imagine one of the numerous, loud, laughing guys just..._gone_ like that. It didn't work. I was just glad that Soda went out of his way to convince me that things were getting better. There was sometimes a little name calling, if the rich boys were in the way at the movies or something, but that didn't seem anywhere near as bad as organized rumbles. The rude names and gestures seemed more like the usual kind of guy stuff. Lord knew, my brothers could get into it over the silliest things.

Anyway, something was making the others nostalgic, what with the end of school approaching; they were talking about past dances and ragging on Evie, telling the story of some time she took on some snotty bitch in a fight, when she was first dating Steve. Although what Two-Bit was saying about Evie and her right hook was funny, I suspected they were exaggerating. Even if I could honestly imagine her doing it—she got awful fierce about Steve.

One time, we stopped for ice cream at the Tastee Freez and a guy in the lot called Steve and Soda to look at his car. Evie and I went right on inside, 'cause listening to car talk gets old pretty quick. We'd been there about five minutes when Evie caught my eye over the top of her straw, nodding towards the window.

"'Nother one," she said, with a smirk.

I looked and she was right. Anywhere we went, someone would know Soda and some of the girls flirted outrageously. I understood now what Evie had tried to tell me about how popular he was. Right then, a girl in a green plaid minidress was sidling up to him. I tapped on the window, making all of them look round, except for Steve who carried on peering inside the engine.

Soda cheerfully blew me a kiss, but I kept my face straight and my eyes on the chick. I wagged my finger at her and then made a shooing motion. Evie laughed out loud. The chick backed off.

"You're getting good at that."

I grinned back at Evie. "It's been long enough. You'd think word woulda got round that he's taken."

"Oh, it did. They just don't care because—_You have gotta be freaking kiddin' me_!" She leaned right up out of her seat and banged hard on the window.

The chick in the green dress had made her way to the other side of the car and was dangling herself over the engine, and Steve.

Evie gave another bash of her fist on the glass, mouthing the words, 'Fuck off', very clearly. The chick tossed her hair and walked away. Steve, who had straightened up and was wiping his hands on his jeans, smirked and said something out the corner of his mouth to the other guys that cracked them up.

Then he realized Evie had him in her sights. His body language went all super innocent, like _'Who me, what did I do?' _but she glared at him for another second, all the same. I knew she'd be over it, by the time they got inside, she was only having fun pretending to be mad.

But she was plenty tough when she needed to be, in different ways. At Steve's mom's, when everything turned weird, Evie could easily have got in on the screaming match. Instead, she concentrated on getting Steve out of there. And I suppose that was a good example of why I oughtn't to be judging the crowd at The Dingo—those people at Steve's mom's were definitely 'front pew' kind of folks but they were horrible. Mom always said you can't buy class, and they were living proof.

Still, if it had needed to go another way, between me and that slutty chick for example, I completely believed Evie when she said she would've had my back, if it came to a fight. She was small but fiery, for sure.

She was also, unexpectedly, my friend.

For the first few times we went around, I was worried, I admit. One of the few things Soda had told me about his 'ex' was, she was Evie's best friend. That made it kind of weird for me. But I was never one for pussyfooting around, so I fronted Evie, figuring it would be better to clear the air than have something needling both of us. She surprised the hell out of me, told me that the ex, Sandy, wasn't any kind of friend any more. Although she left a lot out, said that it was Soda's story to tell.

Which, I figured, given that he was a guy, meant it was probably a story I would have to drag out of him. I got the opportunity after that evening at The Dingo.

We'd ditched the others and been driving around, out towards some place called Brumly, where the countryside started to look more like home. Soda pulled onto a dirt road, next to a field with some Quarter horses in, then climbed on the fence as a real pretty palomino came right up to investigate us.

I laughed as Soda rubbed the curious beast's nose and chattered nonsense to it. "Did I just lose my date?" I asked him, climbing up to sit on the top rail next to him. He smiled at me.

"Nah. She's a bit fancy for me. I like 'em a bit less friendly."

"Meaning?" I pretended to take offence.

Soda gulped. "What? Oh, no, I ain't talking about dates, I was talking about horses."

I elbowed him, reaching past to scratch the mare's ear. "I know that. Sap. This where you been riding?" The horse was way too familiar with him, to my way of thinking.

He got that look on him, the one where—even if he told you an untruth—you would believe about anything he said. I was sure it'd had been useful to him plenty of times. Then he laughed, giving up on the idea of lying to me. "Yeah. I know the guy whose family owns the stables. But listen, honey, you can't tell Darry. Or Pony. Okay?"

"You bronc riding?" I knew he'd been sneaking off, every other week maybe, and his brothers didn't know, but it didn't seem like a big deal to me. My own brothers were constantly falling off horses, or crashing tractors or doing other generally stupid things.

"Nah, just exercising some of the stock. But what they don't know, won't hurt 'em."

"Long as it ain't hurtin' you." I smiled and hopped down from the fence. "I'll come along some time, if you like."

Soda smiled. "That'd be great." He looked at my feet as we headed back to the car and chuckled. "I can't believe you didn't bust my balls for you getting dirty." My shoes were kind of muddy and the fence had left dust on the seat of my capris. I brushed my rear end off and quipped that obviously he'd never had a girlfriend who grew up on a farm.

"Wouldn't get very far if a little mud freaked me out," I added. He nodded, strangely quiet. Once we were in the car again, I turned to him and asked him outright if he never took Sandy to the stables.

"Nah. Not her scene."

"You know I spoke to Evie about her?"

"Why?" he seemed both surprised and horrified. Honestly, _guys_.

"Because you left me in a situation where I thought I was hanging out with your ex's best friend. How would I _not_ address that?"

It didn't seem like that made a lot of sense to him, but he shrugged. "So, she told you about her."

"She told me she was bad news. No details. Said it was up to you. I don't get why it split up her an' Steve..." I waited for him to fill in the gaps.

Sodapop sighed. "Well, that was Steve's decision. Because Sandy two-timed me."

"_With Steve_?" My turn to be horrified. But it caused a laugh to burst out of Soda.

"No. _No!_ Why would you think...? Oh, no, I didn't mean that." He shook his head and told me that Steve had blamed Evie for not telling about Sandy's deception, and broken it off with her. "He's kind of a meathead, in case you didn't notice," he added affectionately.

"Ha, I'll tell him that, at his _graduation_ party," I teased. Soda grinned.

"He's called me worse. Much worse."

I leaned over and kissed Soda. "Thanks. For telling me. Evie was kind of...cagey."

"Well, it was rough for everyone, 'cause it happened right when we lost Johnny and Dallas." There was that second's pause I'd noticed, every time his friend was mentioned. "We were all kind of out of it, I guess. And, I mean, she did know about Sandy, so I guess she felt guilty. An' then her an' Steve were apart for a while and...Everything was freaky." He switched what he'd been going to say, I was sure.

"But Sandy moved away?" I wondered if that was the last piece of the puzzle.

"Yeah, I told you that. She had to." He caught my eye for a long second. "She got knocked up." I gulped. That was pretty huge. After a couple of seconds, Soda raised his eyebrows. "Ain't you gonna ask me?"

"What?"

"If it was mine."

For a split second I imagined my family—my _brothers_'—response if they found out I was dating a guy who had an illegitimate kid already. Then I shrugged. "Nope. I figure that's the kind of thing you would've said, already."

Soda's eyes were really beautiful when he smiled. He nodded, doing a good impression of talking casually. "She was trying to trap this rich dude."

I gasped. "For real? On purpose?"

He nodded. "Reckon. Anyways, her mom shipped her out pretty quick. That was the first I knew she'd been cheating. Shows what an idiot I was."

"I don't think so. Some people are good liars, is all." I knew that for a fact. And I felt like I owed him a secret back.

"Yeah?" I heard the question, loud and clear.

"Yeah." I took a deep breath. "Wanna know how I know? My best friend back home just got engaged. To the boy I was dating all through tenth grade. Only they were seeing each other on the side."

Soda opened his mouth, then decided against whatever he'd been going to say.

"Ex. Best friend. I guess." I sighed. "I haven't spoken to her in a while."

"I don't get people sometimes." He sounded genuinely puzzled. "I don't see why they gotta do that."

I shrugged. "Me neither. Seems like you could just break up with someone, if you want someone else."

"How did you find out?"

"Caught 'em."

Soda pulled a face. "Ouch." He leaned over and kissed me, a gentle, real soft little kiss. It got a little more heated. Got to where it could have turned into more than kissing.

Soda sat back and snapped the key in the ignition. "I'd better get you home."

Maybe he was concerned about where we were. Only the horses could see us right then, but it was a road all the same. Maybe—if I ignored the fact that exactly the same thing had happened before. I told him it wasn't that late, adding, in what I hoped was a seductive tone, "We could go somewhere else..."

"Nah, I don't think we oughta." He threw the car into reverse, then back around to point us home.

"Is something wrong?" _Do you not wanna be with me?_

"I love you, you know that."

I watched the fence slide past the window, confused.

When we reached my place, Soda handed me the keys. He always did it this way, drove me home then walked. I guess it went to his idea of gentlemanly behavior. Or maybe it was one thing to drive my car, but another to be dropped off by a girl.

I hoped humor would let me tackle the thing that was burning me. "Some chicks might take offence y'know, you get them out on a country lane an' don't make a move."

"That's not why I brought you out there. I wanted to show you the horses, is all."

"Wait 'til you see Gary's favorite, you'll laugh, I swear you never saw such a sorry looking critter, but he wouldn't swap him for the world..." I trailed off. "Soda? You still want to come up to the farm, when I go?"

"Sure." It didn't sound like it. "Only, that's a ways off, huh? I don't know if I'll be working."

A flash of understanding hit me. "You don't know if we'll be together then, that's what you're saying?"

Soda swallowed. "Jeez, Jo. Don't put words in my mouth. I don't wanna break up with you, no way. But I'm not—" he shut right up.

_Not what? _I was too shocked to say anything.

"Aw, honey, you don't really know what you're pushing for. You think you do, but I'm not the guy you oughta be thinking of like that. I love you, I mean it, but one day you'll be marrying someone and you'll be happy you didn't waste anything on me."

He was so calm as he said it that I knew he believed every word that came out of his mouth, even if it didn't make a lick of sense to me.

But I got the most important thing, loud and clear.

Soda wasn't going to marry me.

xxXxx

Three dates went past—three evenings where we laughed, kissed, even fooled around a little. And he pulled the plug every time. Why did I let him? I'd gotten so confused. Soda acted in every way like we were a couple. So how could he go so easily from saying that he loved me, to telling me I was going to be with someone else eventually?

I knew that it was to do with the fact that I hadn't ever slept with anyone. Somehow, that wasn't okay with him. Well, it seemed to me there was one simple answer to that.

It would have been easier to put my plan into action if the party had been larger. Not that I thought anyone would say anything, just that it was easier for absences to go unnoticed in a crowd and we were even fewer that particular night; Kathy didn't make it to the party. I mean, I knew what the story was, that her brother was in the hospital, but to hear her talk that was practically a regular thing with him, the number of fights he got into. Still, in my opinion she was a lousy girlfriend, because she never seemed to put Two-Bit first. This party was for him and Steve, after all. They were the ones graduated high school.

Two-Bit didn't seem to care, he was his usual self as we ate pizza and drank beer and had a good time. We put some music on and chilled and when I went into the kitchen I caught Ponyboy stuffing a couple of beers into his pockets. I think I'd passed some kind of test, as far as he was concerned. He was talking to me these days, anyway.

He looked a bit guilty, but I just smiled and grabbed the chips that I'd been looking for.

"I'mma head out," he said. "If Soda asks."

I nodded. He'd taken a deal of ragging from the guys, over the fact that he was the only one left in school. Which was stupid, seeing as how he was the youngest and could hardly help that fact, but I guess it seemed funny at the time.

"Okay," I told him. "_If _he asks, that's what I'll tell him. _'Out'_." I made air quotes. "Like your big brother, huh?"

Pony got kind of mumbly, denying that his evening and Darry's would be in any way similar, as he booked it out the back door. I had to laugh. I knew what Darry's evening would be like, because I knew where he was, and obviously his little brother knew he was on a hot date too.

The music in the front room had changed when I went back, someone must have switched the record over. I took the chips through and Two-Bit pounced on them. Soda wrapped his arm around me, but looked a little surprised when I pulled him sideways.

I'd been at their house a good few times by then, I'd even been in Soda's bedroom once before. Only because he wanted me to choose between two shirts and we hadn't been alone in the house, he'd carried on a shouted conversation with Ponyboy the whole time, until Darry had yelled even louder for the two of them to be quiet.

Now that I thought about it, there must have been opportunities when we could have had privacy here. Times when his brothers were elsewhere. I thought about some of Evie's careful timetabling, those evenings when she and Steve wouldn't double date because Steve's dad was working away and they wanted to make the most of having the house to themselves.

I was an idiot not to have noticed before. Before Soda made it clear he didn't see any future for us. Well, damn if I was giving up without a fight.

He wasn't completely wasted, but Soda tasted of beer and he chortled when we half fell onto the nearest bed.

"Just think," he said, between kisses, "if I'd stayed in school, this'd be my party too."

"Ain't no party worth two years of torture." I believed it. I'd been perfectly happy to get done with every single thing connected with high school. Wild horses wouldn't have dragged me back for Junior year. It wasn't just what happened with Clay, I was never much interested in studying anyway. And wasn't I justified? Didn't I have a good job? Hadn't I met Soda as a result?

There was so much more room on a bed. Car or truck, we'd never got quite this horizontal. Obviously we were still wrapped around each other, but there was space to move my arm without trapping it, space to fit to each other, not the cramped bench seat.

Kissing Sodapop Curtis was almost the best thing I could imagine. His lips were soft even when he kissed hard, if that made any kind of sense. Of course, that kind of analysis only happened when I was alone and thinking about him. In the moment, when he was actually doing it, I was past thinking sensibly. That was why I'd done my planning earlier in the evening. Like choosing my underwear set carefully, because today was the day he was going to see it. Even the rest of my outfit was selected with this moment in mind and it was working—the blouse was too tight for Soda to get his hand under easily, and so he'd undone the top couple of buttons and was kissing his way down my neck while he worked on the rest.

I reached around his waist, tugging his T shirt up and he put an arm back and pulled it over his head. He'd undone my bra before, up at the lake, but even then I hadn't felt so near to being undressed because the rest of me stayed covered, it was just his hand under my sweater. With my blouse all the way undone, I could feel the heat of him as his chest touched my skin.

Soda rolled right on top of me and my arms around his bare skin felt so good I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't because the kisses were heating up so that all I could do was to snatch breaths in between.

I reached down to where he was so hard against me, undeniable proof that he was enjoying this as much as I was, and tugged on the buttons of his fly.

And he stopped.

Just like he did whenever we'd got things started at the lake, only here he had room to roll off me and lie on his back. I tried to kiss him again and he sat up and reached for his T shirt, pulling it over his head.

"We oughta get back to the others." He was still breathing heavily as he tried to sound calm.

When he moved away from my hand on his arm, slid his feet to the floor, I rounded on him. "I love you." It came out like an accusation and it was.

"An' I said before, you ain't gotta prove that. _I love you_, without we...do anything."

"I'm not tryin' to _prove_ it!" My words followed him as he left the room. I heard the bathroom door shut and threw his pillow across the room in frustration.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Guest who asked how I write - I've tried all the ways and found that I don't like the pressure of writing a new chapter a week. Feels too much like a deadline! Some of my stories were completely written before posting. This one is currently written up two or three chapters ahead of each post, edited down on posting day, although if I get the time to write the whole thing out, I will. :) ..._Why do you ask? _If it's because you notice that I posted right after an 'update soon' review prompt, I promise that was coincidence, I can only post when I'm happy each chapter is finished! **

**Josefin, 'cookies' :) Evie did not notice that Kathy wasn't that great a girlfriend, so Jo was definitely more observant!**

**If anyone's reading this a second time, I made a change in the middle, note at the end.**

* * *

**Soda**

I guess Steve ain't never been one for peeling off a Band-Aid slowly.

I was sitting outside the workshop—he had the keys, because he'd locked up last night—kind of thinking about the Caddy we had to finish up, kind of thinking about Jo, when the Chevy swung in. I wasn't even all the way up off my feet when he announced,

"_Sandy's back in town."_ Although his jaw was clenched so hard it was a wonder the words made it out.

I said, "So what?" and I meant it. As much as I could.

"I just came from Evie's and she's standing in their kitchen, large as life."

"Same again, man - So what?" I motioned for him to open the door and I swung it wide, chocking it with the broken wrench we kept around for exactly that purpose. It gets hot real quick, when two of you are working in that space.

"She was mouthing off to me—"

"_Steve_. I don't care." I paused with one leg in my coveralls, half hopping, to fix my eye on him. He had a mighty suspicious look going, but he grunted and opened the toolbox on the bench behind him. I think he believes there's a tool equivalent of the tooth fairy, 'cause he has to check nothing mysteriously disappeared overnight even when he's the one put everything away.

I squatted down to peer under the car at the metal tray we'd left, in case we hadn't closed down the oil leak yesterday, but it was dry, so that was good. One less job to do today.

"She have the baby with her?" It was like someone else was using my mouth, I swear I hadn't intended to ask that.

Steve clicked his tongue noisily. "_No_. Ain't that the point of her going away, to dump the kid somewhere? Ain't that why any knocked up chick leaves town?"

I knew that.

He ducked into the store cupboard, came back with a Pepsi that he cracked on the edge of the bench. "She's trouble. Was then, is now."

I knew that too.

Steve drained half the bottle and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "You got a good thing goin', with Joanne."

"I ain't no fuckin' idiot!" Jeez, Pony'd have his red pen out, if he was marking me right then. He's worse than Darry when it comes to talking right. Sometimes I want to remind him that Mom used 'ain't' plenty and Dad _all_ the time. Come to think of it, so does Pony, when he gets riled, like I just did.

"Did I say that?" Steve drained the Pepsi and stuck the bottle in the crate of empties. I figured he was short a coffee fix for some reason this morning. "All I said was—"

"I know how good I got it with Jo, thanks. Just shut the fuck up about Sandy, will ya?"

Steve held his hand up in surrender and we got to working on the Caddy. But in my head I was thinking: '_back in town'_, back in town? Like she moved home again? Like, she'd be around, for people to notice and for people to remember why she went and start looking at me the way they did back when the rumors first hit the fan and most everyone assumed that I'd knocked her up and let her take the consequences?

Fuck.

I was kind of surprised that Steve said she'd been at Evie's. I would've put money down that Evie wouldn't want anything to do with her. I remembered talking with her, before she and Steve got back together, when I got her to tell me exactly what Sandy had done. Evie was angry with me, 'cause I'd pushed Steve back into her life –only she wasn't really 'cause they were together again now and obviously I was right all along—but she was pretty definite that Sandy had screwed her over too. That didn't seem like something Evie would just forgive.

Plus, she'd been pretty plain spoken, laying into me for being an idiot about Jo. Told me Jo wasn't anything like Sandy and I oughta wise up to that and treat her better. Which I did and did. Which meant I had Evie to thank for things being clear between me and the best girl who ever drew breath.

_"I get some freaking say in this, don't I?" Jo had been pretty mad when I tried to explain, at first. I'd found her out back, sitting on the steps, after Evie had told me what was what, at Steve and Two-Bit's party_...

I'd started out by apologizing to Jo. That seemed only sensible. Told her I'd thought I was doing the right thing by her, I was trying to be _good_, by not sleeping with her, in case she regretted it later.

"Regretted it, _why_? Do you think I'mma leave you, try an' trade up, like Sandy did?" Jo had this way of cutting me open and seeing to the heart of me. I tried to tell her no, which would technically have been a lie, because part of me still thought 'why wouldn't she?' But she snapped back, "My last boyfriend cheated on me. Should I have assumed you'll be the same?"

I shook my head, feeling about as stupid as a dead snake. That's when she called me out for not discussing what I'd decided was right, and demanded to know whether she got a say in it.

"Yeah. You get a say." I lowered myself down next to her, avoiding the place on the step where Pony stubbed out his weeds. "But you might change your mind, when you hear what I gotta tell you." Jo waited me out while I worked out where to start. How to start. "I get things wrong. When I was dating Sandy, I got a lot wrong. Some of that was down to her, but some of it, most of it, was me. I thought I loved her because I imagined something that wasn't ever going to come true. I got it wrong."

"I. Ain't. Her." This time her voice was real quiet.

"I know. I do. But I'm still me. I still did all the things I did." I wished I had something else to confess. I'd rather have a shady criminal record to tell her about—

_Oh, shit_. Had I ever told her I'd been hauled in, for 'disturbing'? It must have come up some time in conversation. Maybe it didn't even really count as 'arrested', no one got hurt, nothing got damaged. It wasn't like I was a real jailbird.

She was still waiting on my grand explanation.

"It worries me," I tried to make it sound less stupid, but, out loud, I wasn't sure if I pulled it off. "It worries me that I make bad choices and if you get caught up in something I eventually screw up, you'll regret it."

I could see that she didn't understand. But I figured by this point I had nothing left to lose, I might as well lay it all out and then she could dump me sooner rather than later. I took a deep breath.

"Do you wanna know what they called me at school? The 'One Night King'. 'Cause I never steady dated. Just hooked up and moved on."

I used to think it was a hoot that there was stuff on the girls' bathroom walls about me. Now it just made me think about the kind of girls who would write dirty things on walls, in the first place. _Bad choices_. _Easy_ choices, that was the problem, it was all so easy. I remembered Dad lecturing me and Steve on the 'responsibilities'; using a rubber if it happened, but not pushing it further than a girl wanted to go in the first place...Only, they wanted to. There was no pushing required. I'd listened in on bull sessions enough, I'd heard about times that Darry and his buddies, Two-Bit, Dally even, times they struck out, evenings where time and money was 'wasted' and there was no reward at the end. But the first time I got laid, the chick came on to me. Didn't take no pushing, no persuading. She basically told me it was going to happen and it did. We had a lot of fun for a couple of weeks and then she moved on. No harm, no foul.

I never looked back.

I tried to explain again. "I never treated sex serious. It was never special. It never meant anything to me, past the way it feels, right when it happens. I never loved any of those girls—"

Jo sat very still. Eventually she said, "You thought you loved Sandy, you just said."

Oh. I felt like every part of me was peeled bare. "I never slept with Sandy. But I would've. It's just that she was a hell of a game player and that was one of her angles." I grabbed Jo's hand, desperate to make her see. "An' I'm telling you the truth. I was wrong. I didn't love her. The way I feel about you is completely different."

"Then, you lovely idiot," Jo put her hand on my face, "what is the freaking problem?"

"You. You're too special. You deserve someone who waited for_ you_. Someone to make it properly special for you. So, me not sleeping with you, it ain't about you being a virgin, not in the way you think. It's about the fact that I'm _not_. It ain't because_ I_ don't wanna marry you, I do—" _Thank you, Evie, for pointing that out!_ "It's because I don't deserve you. Or rather, you deserve someone better."

I watched as Jo chewed her lip, thinking. Then she fixed me with a _look_: "Soda, do you believe that I love you?"

I nodded.

"Did you mean it, when you came out here and said that I get some say in all this?"

I nodded, more warily this time.

"And you meant what you just said? You wanna marry me?"

My freaking head was going to come off, with how much I was nodding. I had no idea why she was smiling all of a sudden.

"Then, Sodapop Curtis, seems to me the deal is this: You wait for me_ now_. Wait until I convince you you do deserve me." I stared at her, but Jo shrugged like it was obvious enough. "By the way, the answer is 'yes', I will marry you, thanks for asking! An' you'd better make our wedding night worth the wait. 'Cause you keep talking about 'having sex' but what I'm waiting on, that's called 'making love'."

I lost my breath and coughed, I was so surprised. Jo looked mighty pleased with herself. I blinked hard.

"But, all the stuff I've done—"

"Hey! I ain't been living under a rock all my life, just because I still got my cherry. Do you wanna know how many boys have put their tongues in my mouth? D'you wanna know if I ever touched a guy's dick?"

I told her no, quickly. And pretty sharply.

"Okay then. Shut the hell up about any other girls. We're starting fresh from today." She kissed me then, like she'd never kissed me before, like she was giving me the whole world. Or maybe it was me, maybe it felt that way because my past wasn't hovering over my shoulder in quite the same way. I wasn't sure I would ever believe that I deserved Jo, but maybe, if she believed it, that was enough.

I loved her and that was a warm feeling that never left me.

Well, nearly 'never'. The Caddy was a bitch to overhaul and I was almost as bad tempered as Steve by the time we were anywhere close to being done with it.

"Remind me," Steve growled, as he washed his hands, "next time the boss wants a rush job 'for a friend', to tell him and his goddamn friend to both stick their lousy overtime someplace the fucking sun don't shine—"

"_Alaska_." The new voice made both of us jump. "I believe I heard that somewhere..." Evie continued, as she and Jo stood in the workshop doorway, "...that the 'fucking sun' don't shine in Alaska, in the winter." She grinned. She was looking pretty fine, in a sharp cut minidress and shoes that looked impossible to balance in. But Jo... Jo was smoking hot. I couldn't put my finger on it, her hair didn't look so different, she wasn't wearing anything I hadn't seen her in before. Maybe her eyes were a bit more made up than usual, but that didn't seem like enough of a thing to make her look so sexy.

She was smiling at me. That's all it took.

"But if you send your overtime to Alaska," Evie was still on a roll, "you can't spend it on me an' Jo, huh? An' we were thinking it'd be nice to go out tonight. We were thinking 'movies'." She inspected Steve's hands carefully, before she let him near her, but then she was pretty positive about demonstrating where the evening might lead. I figured Steve's mood was improving by the second as he kissed her.

Jo also cast a glance at _my _hands, but I waggled my fingers happily. I'd got done with the Lava soap before Steve even started cleaning up. I was conscious I needed a shower, though. Jo kissed me 'hello', then kissed me 'how're ya doing', then maybe even kissed me way past small talk and into some deep conversation that I wouldn't have been able to follow. And much as I loved it when she kissed me, for any and all reasons, my heart sank a little bit as I realized what this particular show of affection was in aid of.

She knew about Sandy

xxXxx

The girls want the movies? The girls get the movies. I could care less, and it turned out that not a one of us was watching the screen at the Nightly Double after all. First there was a deal of horsing around, which I ducked out of and cuddled up to Jo on the hood of the Plymouth—a way better option. Then Two-Bit and Kathy left on a popcorn run, after he lost to Steve in an arm wrestle that included kicking.

Only, when Kathy came back, it was with more than snacks, she brought Sandy with her.

It was weird. It got weirder, because Sandy acted like she'd only been gone five minutes.

I was cool. I was so chilled I was verging on freezing. I just wanted her gone.

She made me feel stupid. The things I'd said to her. The things I'd told her. I wanted her gone, gone. 'Out of town' gone. Out of state, out of my life. Gone. I could barely focus on what anyone else was saying, I was feeling so goddamn stupid to have ever trusted her. Although I could see that Evie was having a hard time keeping her temper.

And then, after Sandy left, Kathy made it seem like Jo was following her to punch her lights out.

"Jo, wait up!" I caught up to her just before the concession building. She turned around.

I'd never given a deal of thought to describing anyone's eyes, not even Joanne's. Not past using the word 'beautiful', which is what I told her they were, any time the feeling inside me bubbled up so far I had to say _something _to explain why I was so happy. But right then, as she held my gaze, I knew I'd been using the wrong vocabulary. Sure they were beautiful, but more than that, her eyes were like the rest of her. What they were was _clever_.

Jo knew what I was doing, following her, and she didn't insult me by pretending otherwise.

There was no sign of Sandy. After her performance back at the car, she must've made some kind of swift exit and, since Jo hadn't caught her, for her that was lucky.

I smiled at Jo and held out my arms. She kissed me, I kissed her, everything was cool, everything was alright.

A couple of guys I knew walked past and whistled and I was mellow enough to just flip them off, although I resented letting go with even one hand.

Jo leaned against me for a second longer, when the kiss was done and I said carefully, "So. Kathy says you're looking for a fight."

"Only if someone's hogging the restroom," Jo lied with a smile. I smiled back, told her I'd wait for her.

Evie was there so fast, she must have been right behind me. I let her know that Jo hadn't gone after Sandy. I figured that she was worried about that. I'd been been on the money, as far as what she thought earlier; 'hacked' didn't come close to her reaction, when she'd told Sandy she wasn't interested in hanging out. She ducked into the Ladies' room after Jo and when they came back they were laughing about something completely unconnected with 'ex's, or scheming girls, or anything that would acknowledge any one of us had just jumped some kind of emotional hurdle.

I got Steve to let me out at Jo's, although I didn't really want to walk home. I'd twisted my knee, just a little, the previous week, and not limping around the house had been putting extra pressure on it. But I couldn't think of any excuse that wouldn't raise Darry's suspicions. The stupid thing was, I had done it jumping off a freaking fence at the corral, not on horseback at all. I knew it would fix itself, but I also knew it would do that quicker if I kept off it.

But I wanted to grab those extra minutes with Jo. We sat on her aunt's porch. They had a little cane couch there, with flowery pillows that made the seat too small.

"You're gonna be pretty tired for work," Jo commented.

I shook my head. "Sleep is overrated." I had my arm around her and I'd have had to be poked with a stick of dynamite to move anytime soon. She burrowed against me, her head finding my shoulder.

"So. That was her, huh?"

Shit. I was so close to not having to talk about it. "Yeah. That was her."

"Okay."

Wait. That was it? _Okay?_ I waited a couple of heartbeats, but Jo didn't follow up with anything else. Jeez, she was outta sight. I opened my mouth, without knowing that she was doing the same.

_"I love you."_

I resisted the urge to snap, '_jinx_', when we both said it at the same time. I took it as another proof that we were right, we fit, and maybe, _maybe_, it wasn't completely crazy that we both saw us together forever. 'Forever' didn't seem so scary or impossible, not any more.

"How many kids do you want?" she asked me, kind of out of the blue, although I guess maybe not if her train of thought had been approaching mine. I thought about it for all of a second before replying.

"An even number."

"Why?"

"It's hard, to be in the middle."

"Oh. Okay. Two, then? _Four_?" she kept going when I didn't stop her. _"Six?"_

"Sure. Six'll do." I was laughing at her, really. But it was a nice thought. You could get some great football going in a yard with six kids. Or baseball, even, you needed more'n a couple for that, if you were going to get any decent field positions covered.

"Wow, six little girls. That's a lot of hair ribbons," Jo said slyly.

Shit. It could be girls too, I never considered that. But six little girls who looked like Jo, I realized, hugging her tighter.

I could live with that.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to Arsosah's review, I agree, there was something missing in the set up for the final scene. I was conscious not to repeat what happened in 'Our One Rule' but I probably edited too much. That's how helpful reviews are! I never mind hearing if something doesn't make sense, so please let me know. :) I'm covering it a bit, next chapter from Jo's POV, but I added some above so I hope it makes more sense here now. (And it's the middle of chapter 7 in 'Our One Rule', if you want it from Evie's POV!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Jo**

Did I honestly not know she was blonde? Weirdly, that's what went through my mind at the Nightly Double as it became obvious who this was and why Kathy was acting like she was a magician producing a particularly freaky white rabbit from her hat.

I'd revised my opinion of Kathy. I didn't just think she was a lousy girlfriend, I thought she was a lousy person. I ain't a hypocrite, I can gossip with the best of them, but Kathy seemed to enjoy other people's misery. I wouldn't have put it past her to have dragged Sandy over to us.

Although...nah. No dragging required. Someone else was an expert at stirring up shit and that someone was a hell of a lot blonder than I'd imagined.

I tried not to let that bother me. It was coincidence, was all. The fact that I'd grown up envying Valerie her golden curls was nothing to do with the fact that I disliked Sandy. I knew exactly why I disliked Sandy and she could have been bald as a coot with feathers in her ears and it wouldn't have made any difference.

I listened to her try to engage Soda in conversation.

I heard him shoot her down.

I felt his arm around me tighten just enough that I couldn't be sure he knew he'd done it.

We'd been having so much fun. The movie was incidental. We'd been in and out of the Chevy and Two-Bit's car and when Steve and Two-Bit started horsing around, Soda had picked me up and stuck me out of the way, on the hood of the Plymouth. He ducked out of the wrestling match, or whatever it was, and joined me.

I felt, when I leaned back against him and he wrapped an arm around me, that if anyone looked over this way, they would know that we were solid; we were as obviously together as a couple could be.

And then Sandy turned up.

Of course I'd never seen a picture of her and it turned out I must never have asked anyone what she looked like. She didn't really look like Valerie. Val would never have worn her hair loose like that. It didn't even seem like Sandy had used hairspray. She could have walked right off the set of the beach movie playing behind us; tanned and smiling, like she'd been to Florida for a vacation. I tried to keep my eyes up, not look at her stomach.

I already knew what I wanted to do. What I needed to say. I was just waiting for Evie to get done, for her to dismiss whatever Sandy was suggesting they do. Steve and Evie had 'his and her's' scowls at that point.

I slipped away, fully intending to catch up to Sandy and to tell her to keep the hell away from Soda. This went way beyond any flirty chick who merited a warning look. This bitch had the potential to hurt him again—but she'd have to get through me first.

I knew pretty much everything, I thought. When Evie had come by to tell me that Sandy had returned, she'd answered anything and everything I thought to ask. So I knew how Soda had been when he was with Sandy, at least as far as Evie's theory went, and I knew that Sandy had laughed behind his back at the fact that he wanted to settle down. To raise a family. I guessed that meant she'd laugh at me too.

My dad loved being out with the stock, or racing the weather to bring in the hay. He worked hard but he liked dances, carnivals and rodeos. When he was with his buddies, they played riotous card games that lasted all night sometimes. He was a generally happy man. But when he was really and truly content, that was when all of us were together; Mom, me, everyone else, when we sat around the table for dinner. When he had all of us in his sight. It shone out of him then, his contentment at having his family around him.

I could think of worse ambitions for Sodapop Curtis.

I didn't get to catch up to Sandy. She'd disappeared, and first Soda, then Evie, caught up with me anyway. Neither of them was stupid, they both knew what I'd intended. It was probably for the best, I didn't want either of them caught in the middle. Sure, Evie didn't have a good word to say about her old friend, but I knew she'd still be feeling conflicted. I hadn't talked to Val in a long, long time, but if she rocked up in front of me, like Sandy had done, I couldn't be sure what my reaction would be.

After the movies, Soda had Steve drop the both of us at my house. We spent a cozy forty five minutes cuddling on the porch, kissing and talking. He was doing it to make a point and that was cool by me. He was mine and I was his and no reappearance by any poor man's Brigitte Bardot was going to stop that.

Maybe I was pushing deliberately, maybe I was reinforcing that we'd made some commitment to each other in our recent talks, but I also genuinely had the future on my mind, I guess, because I asked him how many kids he wanted. I laughed at his answer. Mom would skin me if I went with his ideal figure, she'd spent plenty of time telling me and Audrey both that six kids was a sure fire way to turn anybody grey. Of course, that didn't stop her hinting to Sam and his wife that their two would grow up lonely if they didn't make them some more siblings pretty quick, even when poor Paula was still nursing the baby.

I put some thought into the whole issue of family, later that night. It seemed to me that was the key to Soda. The way he looked up to Darry, the way he cared about Ponyboy. The fact that he was so proud of everything his big brother had done for them all, yet ignored the fact that he'd dropped out himself to take a paying job and contribute. So what if he'd hated school? That wasn't the point.

I actually had a brother who pretty much made A grades all the time. I didn't feel the need to talk about it the way Soda bigged up Pony's achievements, especially not if it put my own less than stellar record in the spotlight. Nor did I think I would constantly mention how good my friend was at fixing engines when I was in that line of work myself. It wasn't like the freaking DX ground to a halt every time Steve wasn't on shift.

I thought I understood Soda now, although I was pretty sure that what he believed he'd explained and what I'd taken from the times we'd talked, was not necessarily the same thing.

He said I deserved someone better. If he ever properly held a mirror up to himself, he'd have to see that was impossible. He was loyal, kind, generous, funny, gentle, caring—I didn't have to go far for examples of any of those things. And yet, he didn't see any of it.

xxXxx

Maps don't always make the most sense to me. I'd never give directions by quoting miles or route numbers, it makes more sense to me to say things like 'turn past the Dairy Queen'. So, although I'd done my share of walking and driving around, with Soda and with Evie too, I was still navigating by landmarks more than anything else. That meant that, weirdly, I knew not only where Evie lived, but where her grade school was—one time we'd gone past and she'd told some story from when she was a kid.

So I started there when I went looking for Sandy. I figured kids usually go to the nearest school, right? I could have called Kathy, but that would mean everyone would know what I was doing. I couldn't use the phone book, because although I thought I'd overheard Sandy's full name, I was also pretty sure she lived with a step dad so there was no guarantee it was the same listing. That sometimes caught people out at home, 'cause Mom and Martin were listed under his surname, which wasn't the same as us kids.

I walked along a couple of streets, but even I knew searching this way was a long shot.

Between the school and Evie's house there were a few stores bunched together and I'd got that far when I ran into Steve. He was coming out of the corner store, tearing open a pack of weeds with his teeth. I don't know which of us was more surprised.

"Hey...?" He tapped out a stick, looking around and past me and not seeing anyone that I was with, of course.

I smiled guiltily.

"What're you...You need a ride somewhere?"

"No. I'm parked back there." I waved my arm in the vague direction of the street.

Steve couldn't wait any longer and lit up his cigarette, taking a long drag. "What're you doing here?" He didn't have to point out that it wasn't on my way home from work, unless I was headed to Evie's and she probably wouldn't be home yet anyway. I debated making up a story, but I couldn't think of anything that would sound approaching credible, so I told him the truth.

"Nah." Steve shook his head. "Don't be doin' that. She ain't worth it."

"_She_ ain't," I partially agreed. "But it ain't her I care about."

For some reason Steve smiled ruefully as he exhaled. "An' you're what, wandering the streets hoping to run into her?"

"Yeah. I guess I ain't exactly Honey West." I shrugged. "But I don't have her address, I just figured it must be near here."

"You packing? You need to borrow a blade?"

I pulled a face at Steve's obvious amusement. "I was just gonna warn her off. Don't need your or anyone's permission, or help." I spoiled my defiant stand, by adding, "Don't tell Soda, please."

He stopped smiling at me, turned thoughtful. "Alright, then." He started walking away but looked back over his shoulder, then nodded left. "Go down Archer Street...it's on the next corner, 's'the one with a green garage door."

As things fell out, I didn't even need all of Steve's help, because as I turned onto Sandy's street she was strolling towards me. I stood with my arms folded as she sauntered up, not changing her pace at all.

"You lost?" There was a hard core under the amused tone. "Or just slumming it?"

That was unfair. These houses weren't slummy. But they were smaller and more worn out than the ones on Aunt Emma's street, so that meant Sandy knew where I lived. I wouldn't need twenty questions to work out who had told her.

"I'm in exactly the right place," I replied. "I came to find you."

"Oh, yeah?" She tossed her hair a little, like it had been in her eyes. It hadn't.

"I was gonna ask you to stay away from Soda—" I started, but she interrupted me with a peal of laughter.

"Ain't you sweet. You think he needs your help, to resist me?"

I held my nerve and kept my voice steady. "You didn't hear the rest. I said, I _was _gonna ask you, but actually, I changed my mind, I ain't askin', I'm _telling_. Soda ain't interested an' you shoulda got that message last night, I'm just reinforcing it. Stay away." Her eyes flickered just enough that I knew she hadn't liked it when he shot her down.

"You can't wipe out the fact that me an' Soda have history—"

"Oh, please," this time I interrupted her. "You strung him along and then you cheated on him. You got fuck all chance of _that_ history repeating itself."

Sandy smiled, but it wasn't approaching a happy kind of smile. "If I wanted him, you couldn't do a thing to stop me."

I took a small but important step forward, closer to her. "Try me." I held her gaze, not blinking, until her eyes skittered away from me.

"Who gives a fuck about some dumb grease-monkey? He was never 'all that'." She forced a laugh as she said it and I knew I'd won, but I pushed one last time:

"This place ain't that big. It's possible we'll see you around, when we're out places. Keep your distance."

Sandy's face did a weird transition from smile to scowl. "Whaddya mean 'we'?"

I thought she was playing stupid—I was obviously talking about me and Soda—and I turned to walk away, done with the encounter.

Sandy snapped at me, "You ain't her friend." Which made no kind of sense, but I left her to it and headed back to my car, walking past the stores again.

Parked over on the opposite curb, Steve had one arm out the Chevy window and he was tapping his hand and whistling along with something on the radio. He must have swung back to where I'd said I'd left my car, to wait for me.

"Back in one piece, then?" He had this unnerving way of smiling that didn't always reach his eyes, so I wasn't quite sure if he was genuinely razzing me, or feeling ticked off. I went for 'amused' and told him neither Sandy nor I needed first aid, but I appreciated him sticking around. He nodded. "Alright. An' you reckon she listened to you? She's gonna leave him alone?"

I shrugged modestly. "Reckon."

"Good goin'. I'll see ya around, yeah?" Steve hit the gas and pulled away, down the street towards where Evie lived.

I decided I might break our habit of not going out on work nights and I went home to call Soda.

xxXxx

It was a strange thing, but since Soda and I agreed that we weren't going all the way yet, we actually got closer than we had before. Maybe it was because he didn't feel like he was the only one putting the brakes on anymore. Maybe that pressure being gone meant he could relax some. Didn't mean it wasn't tough, to pull back when every bit of me just wanted more. But it was something we could talk about, laugh about even.

So, when he said, "Whoa," and eased back from me, effectively sitting up on the back seat, I wasn't hacked, it was just...

"Time out?" I asked cheekily, as he shifted around enough to do up his fly. My breathing was just as fast as his and if he hadn't stopped, I would have had to. Things had been getting pretty heavy. Soda grinned back at me.

"Yeah. I reckon we were definitely heading into the fourth quarter there." He refused to use the usual 'first/second/third base' analogy, because he said us making out wasn't like anybody else's tacky getting it on. And he preferred football.

I straightened my clothes and sat up, cuddling into him. "I could probably make some smart remark about play clocks, right about now, if I knew anything about football."

Soda laughed. "I think you know more than you let on."

"No overtime, then?" I said, kissing him gently.

"No overtime." He settled me on his lap and tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear. "Not on the backseat of a goddamn Rambler!"

"Oh? Where were you thinking? 'Cause the truck ain't no more comfortable"

He screwed up his face thoughtfully. "Some fancy hotel? Champagne and roses all the way?"

That made me laugh and I asked if he'd picked the bank he was obviously intending to rob. "'Sides," I added, "I wanna get married at home, and there ain't no fancy hotels nearby."

"Niagara Falls," he said, keeping a straight face. "Good place for a honeymoon, I hear."

"Long drive, to Niagara Falls."

"Nah. We'll take the private plane, of course."

We were giggling so much by then, that any tension over the fact that we'd cut making out was gone. I liked it when Soda kissed me, when he touched me, I _more_ than liked it. But I had to admit, I liked the fact that we were keeping something back too. I don't mean like holding anything to ransom. It just seemed to make sense that we had all of the future ahead of us, we had time to wait and get it right—not that I was holding my breath for Niagara Falls!

The biggest benefit of actually talking about stuff was, I got to see that there was a flip side to Soda's not believing that he was good enough for me and it was the fact that he thought I was special. Once I got past the frustration of his not explaining everything properly and I understood what was going on in his head, I actually liked the idea that he wanted everything to be perfect for me. I liked knowing that he thought I was special, it made me feel safe. It made me feel loved. It made me feel..._special._


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Josefin/Jo, I noticed! ;) Great comments as always. :)**

**Now then...we know what curiosity did to the cat, but what about the Panda Bear?! All I can say is, my username is not actually Outsiders related! Major cookies if you've worked it out, but PM me, 'cause it's not something I usually tell... BTW, love that you spotted Steve missed his coffee, thanks to Sandy turning up. I thought it might just be me who remembered that! **

**Serious A/N: T****his is reaching the aftermath of what happened to Evie in 'Our One Rule', so please take the warning if that's an issue. Nothing explicit, because of course at this point the guys don't know anything for sure.**

* * *

**Soda**

It was completely wrong. I couldn't say 'freaky', or 'screwy' or anything that sounded flippant, not even in my head. It was _wrong_. Plain and simple.

Beating up a girl was wrong.

When I got home, Pony wasn't making much sense. Or maybe I wasn't listening. Truthfully, my first thought, when he said Evie was in the bathroom, was to hope she wasn't gonna be long because I needed to pee. Should've gone at work. But the look on Pony's face was way off so I paused and heard him out and then I called Steve—he must have been just walking through the door at his pad, even at the speed he drives he couldn't have been home long, seeing as he'd only just dropped me off.

Whatever I managed to explain at that point was enough, he was pounding up the porch steps before another couple of minutes had gone by.

_"What the fuck happened? Who hurt her?"_

Pony had gotten all that from me already. He wasn't pissed at Steve though. He was too calm, if anything. Told him step by step that he'd found Evie walking, bruised and such, obviously she'd been jumped. Beaten up. Mugged. Told him she'd locked herself in, the second he got her home.

When Steve took a break from banging on the bathroom door and hollering at Evie to let him in, I grabbed his arm.

"Listen to me. Slow down, man. You're gonna frighten her. Someone worked her over, she's hiding out, you can dig—" _You remember,_ I wanted to say. _You've seen someone this scared before._ _In the lot that time. You remember_...

But his eyes were wild. _"_HOW THE HELL—WHO THE HELL—I'MMA KILL ANYONE WHO TOUCHED HER_—"_ Steve was past making sense and would be, until he saw her. I couldn't blame him.

I grabbed a screwdriver from the kitchen drawer and crouched in front of the lock. "Wait up. This ain't exactly Fort Knox..." And I got him in there.

"Soda, I don't think..." Pony hovered by my elbow, his voice low, but I shot out to the kitchen again when Steve demanded ice. He was right to, I caught a glimpse of Evie as he dabbed at her face and her eye was swelling, alright.

Blood on a girl's face. _Wrong_.

"Soda." Pony shook my arm, whispering urgently, "Soda, please, you have to tell Steve to let her keep the jacket on. Her shirt's all ripped open, like someone...And I think they used a blade. There's blood..."

"Steve!" I took a step inside the bathroom. I needed to put some kind of a brake on this, to stop this happening, to her, to him. To all of us. _Not again_. I could only do it for one person at a time, though. "_Steve,_ get out here a sec. I ain't kidding."

Steve was shaking, every breath demonstrating his tightly wound rage. But he listened. I watched as he listened to what Pony said and what Pony didn't say and suddenly I wanted to get to Jo and hold her. Because, who does that? Who hurts a girl like that? Why? _Whywhywhy?_

Darry appeared, slinging his tool belt onto the coffee table and immediately reading the atmosphere, even without the three of us trying to explain at the same time.

"Okay. Everyone take a step back and chill. First thing to do is get her out of there." I was never so grateful to be managed. I let Darry past and put my hand on Steve's shoulder. Darry would fix this, he would—

"_Whoa!"_ Darry caught Evie as she went completely boneless and slid to the floor.

Steve elbowed past me and Pony and even Darry.

"She needs a doctor, ambulance, even," Darry said, when Evie didn't come to. You can't fuck around with concussion, we all knew that. Steve vetoed the ambulance, lifted her right up and made his way to the front door, with Darry on his heels.

"You're in no shape to drive, man."

I thought Darry was probably wrong, there was no shape Steve couldn't drive in, but I volunteered all the same, because it didn't look like Steve was letting go of Evie any time soon.

Darry put his hand across the door frame. "I'll drive him. Stay, little bud," he shot his eyes across to where Pony still hovered in the back ground, "...please." _Not again_. I saw my earlier thought reflected back from Darry. I nodded.

"Wait." Pony turned around, searching, and then he was holding out Evie's purse, for them to take with her. Darry's lips went tight and then he shot after Steve.

I was still watching the corner of the street, after they'd made the turn, when my brain made sense of the noise behind me and I hurried back to the bathroom.

Pony straightened up as I handed him a wash cloth, swiping it over his mouth and flushing the toilet. While he brushed his teeth, I scooped up the cloth Steve had used on Evie, tossing it in the tub, so the blood was out of sight. Part of me was surprised Pony had held on so long; he didn't do too good with the sight of blood these days, even a cut finger turned him right off.

I patted his arm. "It's okay. She'll be okay."

He nodded, looking anything but happy. Looking anywhere but at me. "It ain't like it was, is it? Back when...Johnny...or when..." His hand went to his face, where he'd been cut himself that time. There was only the faintest scar, you'd have to be looking for it to notice it.

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but he was right, it _wasn't_ as bad, something had shifted, the random jumpings had dried up. I hadn't been in a full on fight with a Soc since the last rumble. Even at school, Steve had said, things had been quieter, the Socs content with long distance sneering, the greasers happy to call names, not throw punches. I sometimes wondered what Dally would've thought about all that.

Sure, there was still some needling between the gangs—still some places you wouldn't wanna be without an invitation, like deep in Tigers' turf. But the likelihood of Evie being beat up for living where she lived, or walking where she walked, was pretty small. Mugging made about the only kind of sense, in that respect this was still the neighborhood it had always been and small time thieves weren't so particular, especially if they were jonesing.

"Whoever mugged her is gonna regret it when Steve gets his hands on 'em," I tried to sound confident.

Pony still looked kind of pale. He swallowed. "She still had her pocketbook." _Yeah. Damn. Whywhywhy then?_

I watched Pony carefully.

"Here." His hand hovered over his chest. "There was blood here, on her shirt. And it was all...open...ripped..."

I slung my arm around his neck, half dragging him into the kitchen. I shoved him in a chair and put a Pepsi in his hand. Pushed the ashtray towards him, then sat down myself.

I thought about when I snapped at Jo for standing on the street in the middle of the night. What was I really afraid of? It wasn't likely any hoods would be around where she lived, unless there was a little light housebreaking going on. No, that reaction was in-built, the product of news reports and fears of the night brought on by sensational stories.

Men in alleys. Men with knives. Random, bad men with masks on their faces and evil on their minds.

It wasn't even dark out. How could someone do that to a girl, to _Evie_, in broad daylight?

"She's like, really little." Pony's voice was deeper these days, I suddenly noticed. His hands on the Pepsi, which he hadn't so much as sipped, were as big as mine. Maybe he'd be taller than me soon. The look on his face, though, that went back to a time before he was jumped, before Johnny was beat so bad, took me right back to the first time when his eyes begged me to change something that had slammed our world sideways, never to be straight again.

Back then it was:_ Please make what that cop said not be true. _But the rest was the same:_ Please let this not have happened... _

xxXxx

We were still sitting at the kitchen table when Darry got back, said he'd hitched with a guy from his work who happened to be at the hospital. Said he'd called Evie's sister to go down there.

_Damn._ "I never thought." I never do.

"It's okay. I know Sarah, probably better it was me."

"Did Evie wake up?" Pony had color in his face again, but his voice was still flat. Darry shook his head.

"Not while I was there. But I didn't hang around."

I remembered when I broke my arm. Just about the least serious thing that had taken us to the Emergency Room, on the recent scale of things. Darry had still been like a wild animal in a cage, pacing.

_Not again._

_Please let this not have happened... _

I felt bad that I didn't remember Darry that other night, that my own grief and Ponyboy's had left him to deal on his own, visit the morgue on his own, tie up whatever needed tying up, become that person who would never comfortably step through a hospital door again...and yet did so. For Pony, for me, and now for Steve and Evie.

I resisted the urge to hug Darry. Instead, I reached into the ice box and held out a beer. He hesitated, then shook his head and shocked the hell out of me by opening a cabinet and taking down his bottle of Old Forester and three glasses and joining us at the table.

He poured about a finger's less into Pony's and mine, but I still blinked in shock. Darry added some Pepsi into Pony's glass, shooting me a _'Better?'_ kind of look.

Half of his drink disappeared in one gulp.

"I should've—"

Darry cut across Pony, "No 'should've' about it. You did good, bringing her here. Pony?" He waited until Pony looked up at him. "Evie's strong. She'll get over this."

"She was real scared." It seemed like Pony needed us to get that, as if we couldn't have imagined it.

"Of course she was. You know what it's like, how scary it is to get beat on, we all know that."

_Bullshit,_ I nearly said, but I saw that he was serious. At what point in his life had Darry ever been beat up? He'd always been that much further than me, that much taller, bigger, stronger. The bourbon burned its way down my throat. "We need to do something." I said. "We need to find the bastard who hurt her."

Pony looked at me, kind of panicky. He reached for his weeds, lit one, took a long shaky drag.

"Where to start, little man? Until she wakes up, gives us some kind of description..." Darry shrugged. "But then...yeah. I hear ya."

"What if she...?" Pony choked out. "What if she don't remember enough of a description?" He sipped at the drink, putting the glass back down straight away.

"Someone'll know something. Talking of, you call Two-Bit? He's gonna need to know."

Shit. I'd spent the last while sitting here with Pony as he smoked and worried. Two-Bit was going to kill me. He had a real soft spot for Evie.

"Darry? Do you think...I mean..." Pony squirmed. "What happened to Evie..."

"We don't _know_ what happened to Evie." Darry said firmly. "And guessing about it won't do her any good, you dig?"

I thought about Steve right then. Wondered if he was sitting there, watching Evie, thinking what we were all thinking. The chair scraped as I stood up. "I'mma head over to Jo's."

xxXxx

I'd worked out that it wasn't even the houses where Jo lived that were so different. Yeah, they were mostly bigger, neater kept and all that. But it was the yards that really looked strange; no chain link fences, no broken down vehicles. Instead, flower beds dotted here and there, like some park or other.

Joanne's aunt had a whole flower garden at the side of the house and that's where we sat, on a bench painted white. Mom liked flowers, but she didn't get to grow that many. I apologized in my head for every stray football, every thoughtless game of chase.

My hand was shaking as I struck a match. If I still had a lighter it was at home somewhere and I hadn't wanted to take Pony's last couple of sticks—I'd stopped at a corner store on the way, bought a pack of Camels and a matchbook. The cigarette glowed, the smoke disappearing into the shadows. Jo had been surprised to see me, said she'd only just got home herself. We hadn't made plans.

"What's the matter?" she asked quietly. I told her about Evie. I tried to tell her calm-like and make myself sound like Darry. He was always so believable when he said everything was going to be okay. She was still shocked. Still upset.

I ground out the rest of the weed, treading it into the grass. "Promise me," I said, "that you won't go nowhere on your own. Not 'til we know if this creep is still around."

"But the police..."

I shrugged. "They won't much care, if it turns out she was only mugged. You gotta understand, in our neighborhood, they could care less about that kind of stuff."

"_Only_ mugged...?" Jo's eyes were wide. I put my arms around her, my fear spilling out:

"I don't know. Nothing was stolen, not her wallet, nothing. So, I don't know..."

Jo started crying. Not weeping and wailing, just quiet little sniffs as she clung onto to me. I thought about what I would do, if anyone hurt her like that. I thought about how Steve was likely to be. I figured I'd swing by Two-Bit's later, see if we could work out some way to stop Steve burning down half of the North side with his rage, once he got past looking after Evie.

I told Jo I loved her and kissed away her tears.

Every time she said it back, it felt like the first time I'd ever heard those words. But even this, even sitting here with her like this, owed a lot to Evie and her pep talk. I knew Jo had talked with her and that was why Evie had whipped me into shape. Evie was good people.

But then, so was Johnny. Maybe Dallas would have smacked me upside the head for describing_ him_ that way, but not even he deserved what happened. And as for Mom and Dad—

I fumbled for the Camels, shaking one out the pack. Jo put her hand on mine, stopped me lighting it.

"It'll be okay. Evie will be okay." Wasn't I supposed to be the strong one? Wasn't it supposed to be me telling her that?


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Awesome guest reviews, thanks guys. :)**

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**Jo**

I was going to suggest to Soda that we picked up ice cream for Evie. I wanted to see her and I felt like I should take her something, but she wasn't ill in the usual sense, so grapes or chicken soup didn't seem like they would be quite right. Since Soda had said Evie had a fat lip, I figured ice cream would work nicely. It was still freaking me out, to think that she'd been mugged. Or worse. I kept pushing that thought away. I knew what Soda hadn't been able to bring himself to say, but it was a conclusion that was pretty easy to jump to, if a girl was attacked. I really hoped it wasn't true.

Even without Soda insisting, the thought that there was some kind of rapist on the streets meant that I was happy to drive straight to work and back, no detours, no stops. Or straight to Soda's house, anyway. Then we could pick up some ice cream and drop it off to Evie who, I was hoping, wasn't too badly hurt because she was home from hospital after all, according to Soda on the phone last night.

But something was off, when I arrived. Ponyboy spotted me coming up the porch steps and opened the screen door. Darry and Two-Bit were there as well, with Soda slumped on the couch, and all of them looked sick to their stomachs. I sat next to Soda and was just asking what was going on, when I was startled by the biggest yell—from Steve, out back.

Suddenly Evie appeared, actually_ running_ into the front room with Steve shouting something fierce as he followed right behind her. Darry stuck out his hand and stopped him, by grabbing his shirt and holding him in place. It looked like Evie was trying to hide behind Two-Bit as Soda jumped up, getting in Steve's face, Pony close behind him.

It was all real loud, real quick, and I couldn't work out why Steve was yelling at Evie, although to be honest at that point _everyone_ was yelling, and then Steve was suddenly pushing at Soda and coming out with, "You know what he said, man, I told you what he threatened to do to her an' now I find out it was him all along, with his twisted gang rape fantasies—"

I had no idea what was going on but I was shocked by that, barely hearing Steve go on to demand of Evie, full force, _"Why didn't you tell me?"_

In the middle of all the shouting, Darry must have had enough of Steve's behavior because he slapped him on the head and then things got worse. So much worse.

It made me jump when Steve shoved Darry to the floor and they started fighting, properly fighting. Something fell off a shelf when they hit the wall. Soda and Ponyboy tried to help, but Steve and Darry were going at it so hard that they were like a whirlwind. First Two-Bit pulled Ponyboy out of the way, then I leaped forwards when Soda shouted out in pain.

I realized I could hear _myself _yelling by now, telling them to stop. Soda just moved me, back to the couch. He actually picked me up and stood me on the couch! Then he jumped back to the fight.

Because it was a fight. For real.

Steve and Darry rolled over, first one landing a punch, then the other. When Steve was on top, Soda yanked on his shoulders and pulled him backwards, cussing out loud as one of Steve's fists connected with his head again.

"Randle!" I heard Ponyboy yell. "What's the matter with you, you fucking maniac?" He was trying to get between Darry and the still flailing Steve, while Darry was using one arm to shove Pony back again and one to block Steve's blows. Two-Bit was no longer around to help, I vaguely registered.

"Jesus Christ, Steve!" Soda bellowed in desperation, hauling on Steve's arm again and as that finally spun him around, Soda's fist went back and then landed square on Steve's face.

Steve landed hard on his ass, only just missing the coffee table.

I watched all of this in disbelief, as Darry leaned back on one arm, panting and rubbing his cheek. I could see his tongue running over the inside of his mouth.

Eyes wide in shock, Soda stumbled backwards and sat down on the couch, making me wobble. It was suddenly very quiet. I stepped down and tried to get Soda to raise his face to me, because he was rubbing at his forehead and I knew it had to hurt.

"Darry? You okay, Darry?" Pony's color was high, his own fists clenched tight.

"Yeah, I'm good." Darry climbed to his feet. "Don't do that, alright? Don't get in someone else's fight."

"He's completely out of line—" Pony protested, following his big brother out of the room.

When I finally got a look at Soda's head, sure enough, there was a bump swelling. "You need some ice. Now." I dragged him up, doing my best to ignore Steve, and the way he was holding his own face.

"Where'd Evie go?" his voice rasped out.

"I assume," I spat at him, "that Two-Bit took her someplace less crazy." I hadn't actually seen them go, I'd been so fixed on the fight. I led Soda into the kitchen and shoved him into a chair before I began rummaging in the refrigerator, retrieving ice cubes and finding a clean dish towel. I tilted Soda's face up again, willing my hand not to shake. "You okay? You seeing double or anything?"

He winced as I touched him, but shook his head. "I'm okay. Ain't nothin'. Is Darry okay?"

I slipped out, down to the bathroom. Darry was inspecting his cheek in the mirror, dabbing at it with a wet face cloth. I told him I'd bring him some ice. He shot me a grim smile of thanks.

Back in the kitchen, Soda was leaning his head in his hands.

"Baby?" I was scared he was really hurt, I'd missed something, some clue. He looked up at me and I saw his eyes were shining, although his voice was steady as he tried to reassure me, quietly,

"I'm alright...But this thing with Evie is totally fucked up. It's real bad. How's Darry?" he asked again.

"He's fine." I fished out some more ice. Soda stood up and wrapped his arms around me and the cubes slid out of my hand onto the table.

He leaned into me, holding me close, murmuring, "I love you so much." I held him tightly. Honestly, I wanted to slap Steve myself at that point.

I had no idea what the hell was going on. Just yesterday I'd been pleased to think that Steve was watching out for me, we'd had something in common, wanting to keep Sandy away. Now I was honestly a little scared of him. Fighting Darry like that. Hitting Sodapop. _Yelling at Evie?_ That was way out of control.

Voices rose again from the front room. Or one voice in particular; Ponyboy was listing Steve's shortcomings in no uncertain terms.

Soda muttered, "Shit," under his breath and disentangled our arms. "I'd better see about Steve," he said, making a move for the door.

We found Ponyboy looming over Steve, who had made it up onto the couch but was still holding his face, as Pony snapped at him:

"You got rocks for brains or something? Ain't we all on the same side here, you moron?"

"That's enough, Pony." Darry appeared and I handed him the ice, which he put inside the wash cloth and held to his cheek.

"Steve? Buddy?" As Soda reached an arm down, Steve shrugged him aside but Soda pulled the coffee table forwards and sat directly opposite his friend, nudging his leg. "Hey, did I fetch you a good 'un?"

"What'd ya think?" Steve scowled, dropping his hand. Everyone winced and Darry offered him the ice. I stared at them in turn, not understanding in the least how they'd gone from beating on each other to being friends again, just like that. Well, apart from Ponyboy who was still curling his lip at Steve.

"Serves you right," Soda said almost cheerfully, pushing Steve's knee again. Steve looked up at Darry, kind of guiltily.

"Shit, man," he mumbled. "I don't even...I mean..."

Darry nodded, like that made sense, although he didn't smile. "You gotta get a handle here, man." He dropped into the armchair. "All of us do." His eyes went from Steve, to Soda, then Pony. "I ain't kidding. We gotta be smart, from here on out."

"I gotta find Evie, is what I gotta do—" Steve started to get up, but Soda put a hand up to stop him.

"Hey, she's okay." Darry kept his voice level. "Two-Bit went with her, didn't he?" He looked to me for confirmation and I nodded, although I was only guessing. "Alright then, she's okay for now. You need to chill down and think about this, Steve. There was a reason she kept quiet."

"Yeah, her and someone else," Steve sneered, with an evil look at Ponyboy.

"She said to—Anyway, I told, didn't I?" Pony flared. Darry held up his hand, his eyes fixed on Steve, his voice quiet but hard:

"You fuckin' leave Pony out of this, or you got me to answer to, right?" Steve swallowed as Darry went on, "He did what he thought he had to. What Evie wanted. But he was right to tell us too. 'Cause we _are_ all on the same fuckin' side. But don't make the mistake of thinking that just because I understand _why_ you're freaked, that it's cool to take it out on us." Steve shrank a little. Darry sighed and shifted his jaw, where Steve had hit him.

"It's different, though," said Soda, with a worried look from his friend to his big brother. "Now that we know—"

I was out of patience. "_Know what?"_ I demanded. "What the hell happened? What's going on?"

There was a second when all of them were frozen with the same kind of sick look I'd seen when I arrived, then Steve dropped his head forward into his hands, scrubbing his eyes—even the bruised one—with the heels of his palms. Soda stood up and took my hand, nodding towards the kitchen and pulling me out the back door, to sit on the steps.

What he proceeded to tell me sounded like the plot of some TV movie, or dime store detective novel. Evie had been attacked by an old boyfriend of hers, who was out for revenge on her and Steve...

Soda was sitting one step up from me, with his back to the corner post and he leaned his head back, closing his eyes briefly, when the story was done.

"_Evie_ did that? Made a deal to send this guy to jail?" I heard how stupid I sounded, disbelieving what he'd just told me so carefully. Soda nodded.

"I guess she thought it was the answer, would keep Steve from getting into anything..." He watched me steadily as I raised my eyebrows, communicating my current opinion of Steve. "Honey, you can't judge Steve for how he was just now," he told me earnestly, "he was totally freaked. Back last year, this bastard told Steve he would hurt Evie, if he got the chance. Said some bad stuff...like _real_ bad stuff."

I'd heard what Steve had yelled earlier. I lost my breath at the very thought. Soda reached out and held my hand.

"Steve hates secrets. Always has. He freaks if he thinks he's been lied to. That's all that happened, before. 'Sides, better that he blows here. He got it out his system now."

"You reckon?" Ponyboy came out on the stoop, lighting a cigarette. "I think I'll still sleep with one eye open." He sat down next to Soda, who moved his legs to make space. Pony exhaled slow, the smoke barely moving in the still air. "I just wanted to do the right thing by Evie."

"You did. I think you were right. I think there's a chance he's still out there, might hurt her again." Soda kept his voice quiet.

Pony looked at him, surprised. "Darry said not to do anything—"

"Darry said we need to be smart."

"Soda!" I sat up straight in horror. "What the hell?"

"Aw, I ain't saying we do anything...in particular. We promised Evie, didn't we? I'm just saying Pony was right to think the way he did, to let us know. We take up for our own. There may be something we can set up..."

I glared at him. "Yeah, 'cause that worked so well before, you were just tellin' me." _Evie made a deal with hoods?_ Evie _dated _this evil piece of work? I was still having trouble processing it.

He shrugged. "I ain't leaving Steve to get this sorted, not on his own."

Ponyboy ground out his weed on the side of the step, put his elbows on his knees and his hands behind his neck as he slumped. "Shit. I hate this," he mumbled into his lap. Soda scooted a little and slung his arm around his brother's shoulders.

"What did you promise Evie?" I picked back up on what Soda had said.

"She said she don't want any of us taking the fight to Hennessey. Said she wants it forgotten."

Oh. I nodded slowly. "Can you maybe think about that from her point of view?" Neither of them looked like they understood. "It's true, I'm sure she don't want any of you arrested, for anything. But did you consider that maybe_ she_ actually wants to forget what happened?" Soda's eyes went a little wider. I shrugged. "Just sayin'. Kind of hard for her to get past it, if y'all keep some vendetta going."

"But he..._hurt_ her..." Ponyboy whispered.

"You need to listen to me." I kept my voice as calm and quiet as I could. "Nobody knows _anything _for sure, apart from what Evie herself has said. _Nothing_, y'hear? She don't want you thinking that about her, every time you see her."

I thought about the way rumors and innuendo had destroyed a girl in Audrey's grade at school. All she'd done was to get drunk with a guy she thought was trustworthy. Nobody even cared about the fact that his face was scratched, where she'd tried to fight him off. And even if they believed that, plenty of people still said she was in the wrong, for going off with him in the first place. It got so bad she dropped out. The guy captained the baseball team all the way to finals that year.

Some things were better left in the dark.

* * *

**A/N: Not saying I agree with Jo's reasoning at all. Different times, y'know? Plus****, it helps explain why none of the guys actually did bump off Ricky! ;) Also, what Josefin and beanchop99 said in their last reviews- yeah exactly, Evie was being a little naive in thinking that nobody assumed the worst, just because people didn't talk about it directly to her. Wishful thinking on her part... **


	10. Chapter 10

**Soda**

The road signs around this stupid place made no goddamn sense.

I sat at the intersection, drumming my thumbs on the steering wheel, and cussed. Again.

Maybe this was the universe's way of telling me I was doing something real dumb. Maybe I oughta turn around and head for home...

...And not see Joanne for another week, until she landed back in Tulsa. _Dammit._ I chewed on my lip, trying to second guess myself.

It was the phone that was driving me nuts, only being able to talk to her on the phone. I mean, at least at my end I could try and wait for a time when Pony and Darry weren't home, but I had never once been able to call Jo without someone in her family being around in the background. I wished we had some kind of real private phone, or that the cord was long enough for her to take the receiver out to the barn or something.

Some things couldn't be said over wires and miles. Some things needed two people to be together. I knew, I'd tried.

It had sounded so bad, when the words hung on the line between us—'_the guy who hurt Evie is dead'. _I hadn't been able to tell her that the cops were looking at all of us for it, but she was smart enough to work that out for herself. She took all of five seconds to ask me if everyone was okay.

What could I say, _'Not really, 'cause all of us got motive and ain't one of us with a good enough alibi..._'?

That was another reason I hated her being away. It's easier to lie on the phone.

But mostly I wanted to just be with her.

I didn't know if I was coming or going, that morning when it all first kicked off. My knee was hurting like a bitch and I was on borrowed time, as far as Darry working out that I'd been at the stables. It wasn't even that I couldn't handle him being pissed about the horses. It was just that it was kind of the last one of Dad's rules still standing and since he never had that many for us, it felt like I was betraying him and Darry both.

On my way home that morning, I passed a couple of guys I knew, hanging on some corner, and they told me a guy had been knifed over at the Lookout. Word was, all the Kings had cast iron alibis, _'but everyone knows they hated Hennessey, so...'_

So, I needed to get home.

I tried to run the last couple of blocks and that's what really screwed my knee. I was too late, Darry was already up—although of course I found out he hadn't been home either—but we didn't have time to get into anything before the Chevy roared up, then the cops, and everything started sliding into Freaksville.

I went from stressing about Pony not being home, to stressing about him turning up. Everyone else, including Darry, was looking at the blood on his hand and not hearing that every word coming out his mouth was bullshit, and not just the line he span for the cops.

As soon as Darry was convinced that Pony's skinned knuckles weren't some kind of mortal injury, I took Pony aside and practically shoved him into his bedroom. He scowled and slapped my hand off him.

"The hell's your problem?"

"Are you kidding me? You think _I _got a problem?" I hissed. I noticed that his window was open. Thank God he'd seen the cruiser out front and snuck into the house, to pull off his 'I just woke up' act.

Pony still thought I was pissed that he'd told Darry about me and the stables. "Seriously," he said, "do you not notice how much horses stink? You're lucky Darry ain't got a good sense of smell..."

_Priceless._ _Fucking priceless._ "Funny you should say that." I snatched away the T shirt wadded in his hand and sniffed it, then I grabbed Pony's chin and forced him to look at me as I inspected his pupils. He jerked his head back, cussing me out again, but I tossed the T shirt aside with a snarl. "Kid, I could get high off this T shirt right now. I'd say _you're_ lucky Darry ain't got a good sense of smell."

A guilty look washed over him but then he was all swagger again. "So what?" Although his voice was considerably lower now.

"So what?" I fought back the urge to shake him. "_So fucking what_? Did you somehow not notice the cops wanna fit one of us for murder? Jesus, Pony, _think_! Every single one of us has got motive, but only one of us has got _experience_."

I immediately felt sorry for that because his expression got real sick. "I was _acquitted_," he breathed, sitting on the edge of his bed. I sank down next to him.

"I know. I didn't mean...I'm sorry, kid. It's just if the cops find out you was doing drugs with Curly Shepard..."

Ponyboy swallowed. "They believed we were here. All of us. They won't know to ask Curly anything."

Shit. Oh, shit. I had to force my tongue to work. "Yeah? What if _I_ ask Curly?"

He looked away from me.

I remembered holding him, nights, after Johnny, after Dallas. Nights when he woke up in a sweat, babbling about Johnny and a knife, fighting his way out of water that wasn't really there. Nights when he wouldn't lie down and sleep in the first place, for fear of it all coming back.

I thought about him throwing up at the sight of blood these days.

But I also thought about him holding it together until he'd seen Evie taken care of. He didn't lose it then, not until she was out of his care. And when he told us about Hennessey, when he spilled Evie's secret, it was because he wanted us to deal with it for her. Teach the bastard a lesson. What had he said to her, _'Let us do it for you'_ or something?

Shit. Oh, shit.

"If you weren't with Shepard, how'd you hear about it?" I could barely hear my own question.

"I heard. That's all that matters. I heard an' I got back here in time." There was color rising in his face

"You do anything else? Apart from the MJ? You didn't take no pills?" I'd seen a guy one time, so hopped up on speed that he walked out a window at Buck's. Upstairs.

Pony had flinched, when I started the questions, but he shook his head. "One joint, 's'all. And some wine."

"_Wine?"_ I couldn't help a little snort. "Now I know you weren't at Shepard's. Where the hell you drinking _wine_?"

Pony shoved himself back up the bed. "It don't matter. I wanna get some sleep. Can you just leave me alone?" He made a good show of punching his pillow into shape to get comfortable.

Back out in the front room, Darry and Steve had agreed it ought to be business as usual. Everyone was going to work, like it was just another day. We didn't want the cops to think any one of us was acting freaky. But it was beyond difficult. All I wanted to do was get to Jo. I felt like she was my answer to everything. But she wasn't home.

There was no time at all, when things went straight to Hell and Steve was arrested, to make a call, because I was supposed to be looking after Evie. But all I wanted to do was talk to Jo, so bad. Properly, be able to see her face, hold her hand. And... call me any kind of pansy, but I wanted her to tell me everything was going to be okay. And I didn't even know then that the world had only just started screwing with my head...

Fuck.

I stared at the signpost, like I could force it to change just by glaring. How could I have been on a perfectly straight road for three miles, nothing but fields and trees either side of me, and the fucking sign post for Sequoyah now be pointing in the complete opposite direction?

A rusty old truck wheezed up behind me, engine popping something awful as it idled. I squinted at the old guy driving it, in the rear view, then I swallowed my pride and climbed out, walking over to his open window.

"You lost, son?"

I nodded. I hadn't been going to say that, quite so plain.

"Thought I didn't recognize your vehicle. Where'd you wanna be?"

Hell, I knew most of the cars around the neighborhood, but I couldn't say I'd pick out every single unknown one. I told him I was looking for the Harrison farm. Then I corrected myself, "Uh. I guess it's the Harrison farm still..." I went blank on what Jo's step dad's surname was, but the old guy grinned.

"You ain't so far wrong. Take a right here and then watch for the turning when the road bends left, in about a mile."

"Thanks. Uh, by the way," I gestured at the hood of his truck, "your carburetor needs looking at."

"That she does," he agreed happily.

So, I watched for the turning and I saw the sign said 'Harrison Farm' –even thought the mailbox said both Harrison and McBride— and I eased onto the gravel road and pulled up between a couple of barns and a wide, two, no, _three_ story house, with a wraparound porch.

And then I was stuck. This was as far as I'd got in my head, when I made the decision, when I couldn't stand another single second of everything at home pressing in on my head until I wanted to scream. Scream, or run to Jo.

There was movement, people approaching from right and left, and I realized I couldn't sit there like a dummy, so I climbed out.

"Help ya?" said a rangy guy with thick leather gloves on. He rubbed at his nose with the back of one of his hands as he studied me. The kid with him wasn't looking at me at all.

"Cool car!" he exclaimed with a grin.

"Yeah. It ain't mine, it's borrowed." I felt I should explain, then I turned to the older guy and just as I said, "I'm looking for Joanne," a dark haired chick in a cute green dress came down from the porch.

"Hey there! Are you..._Sodapop_?" She was tilting her head as she inspected me, like she already knew the answer. I nodded. She broke out into a smile.

"Well, how about that. I'm Audrey, that's Sam an'—"

_"GARY! Joey's boyfriend is here!"_ the kid yelled towards the nearest barn.

"—this is Chris," Audrey finished the introductions with a roll of her eyes. I said 'hey' and felt my smile fade out a bit under the flat stare that Jo's oldest brother was giving me. Audrey started chattering about surprises and 'driving all this way' and how pleased Jo was going to be and then there were two hard faces staring me down, because Chris's yell had brought out another guy in scuffed jeans and plaid work shirt.

"The hell?" the newcomer said, to the kid. "I thought you meant that other fucker." Which kind of threw me.

"This is Sodapop," Audrey told him. "Stop being an idiot."

"_Tulsa_ Sodapop?"

I couldn't help myself. "How many you know?" I asked, pleasant enough.

He snorted. "Fair enough. Joey never said you was coming."

"It's a surprise!" Audrey seemed very taken with the idea.

"Sure is. Seeing as Joey ain't here." Sam pulled off a glove and stuck his hand out. I shook first his, then Gary's hand and neither one of them cracked a smile. The kid smiled, but kept his hands in his pockets.

"C'mon in, Sodapop." Audrey beckoned me towards the house. "You must be hungry? Thirsty?"

I looked at Sam. "Whaddya mean, Jo ain't here?"

"She went into town, she'll be back soon."

Shit. That hadn't ever been in my imaginary reunion scene. I tried to tell Jo's sister that I'd just wait by the car but I found myself being dragged into the house. Gary and Chris followed, although Sam called after them,

"That feed order stowed?"

Gary waved a hand at him, which seemed to stand for 'yes', and then we were in the kitchen. There was a huge table in one corner, with benches around two sides under the windows, like a booth in a diner. I got stuck on one end as Audrey set lemonade and cookies in front of me. She kept beaming at me like I don't know what, which made it all the more freaky that Gary just stood against one of the cabinets with his arms folded, staring me down.

I was grateful that the kid kept the conversation going, asking about the Chevy and how come my friend let me borrow it, 'cause he sure wouldn't let anyone drive his car, if he had one of his own.

_Because Steve could see I was going out of my mind and if I didn't get to see Jo I was likely to do something so far beyond stupid it would make stupid look genius..._

I told him Steve didn't need the car for a couple of days.

"Some kind of drag racer, ain't he?" was Gary's first contribution. "So Joey said."

"Yup." I wasn't about to give him Steve's life history.

"Joey said you ride bronc."

I gave him a small shrug. "Used to."

"Said you quit over some injury." A small smile showed what he thought of that. Audrey hissed his name, none too subtly.

"I did. I'd go back, but now I can't afford to lose any work, by being laid up. I got responsibilities," I told him shortly. Let him make whatever he liked out of that. Before he had a chance to respond, Chris—who'd been craning his neck out the window—shot out of his seat with a cry of,

"They're back!"

Audrey tried to call him back, but he was away and down the steps before we all made it out onto the porch. Jo climbed out the passenger seat of a station wagon, as Chris hopped about pointing at the Chevy, saying _'Look, look_,' and then she turned towards me and burst into tears.

I had two seconds of feeling like the world had just folded in on top of me, when Jo launched herself into a run and was rocketing into my arms, laughing and crying all in one.

"Oh! I thought it was Steve!" she babbled, as she kissed me and hugged the breath out of me. "I saw the car and thought Steve had come to tell me they'd arrested you."

_God. I still had to tell her._ She knew Steve was okay, that they'd released him, but that was all I'd had the guts to say, last time on the phone. Not yet, though. Not yet.

I set her back on her feet, tucked her hair behind her ear where it was coming loose from a ponytail she never wore at home, and let myself look at her. "Sorry. I never meant to scare you. I just wanted to see you. I missed you."

"Oh, I missed you!" Jo said, hanging onto my hand and going to hug me again.

"Jeez, Joey. Get a room alrea—Ow!" Gary yelped at the end of his snarky comment and I turned my head just in time to see Audrey's hand slide back into her pocket.

"Thank you, Gary, go fetch the groceries out of the car, please," said a different voice and Jo jumped. She smiled, though, as she said,

"Oh, yeah. This is my mom. Mom, this is Soda."

"Well, thank goodness for that. I thought it was kind of an enthusiastic greeting for the encyclopedia salesman..." Jo's mom's comment blew me away. I had to make Jo let go my hand, to hold it out to shake, as I stuttered that I was pleased to meet her.

She smiled back at me, said the same went for her and then she was shooing everyone inside and organizing where I was going to sleep.

"No, I couldn't, I didn't expect...I mean, I know I just landed on you an' all." I tried to protest, but apparently since I _had _to stay for dinner it would be too late for Mrs. McBride to feel comfortable about me driving 'all that way' home in the dark. And apparently that was the cue for Audrey to insist that Jo didn't need to help fix dinner, because she oughta show me around the place. Which was totally what I wanted and needed. I could care less about seeing the farm, but I needed to be alone with Jo.

She walked me down to a stand of trees that followed the bank of a creek, holding my hand tight the whole way, until we reached the water and she turned to me and said, "What's the matter?"

I loved that she knew me. I hated that I would ever worry her.

I sat down and waited for Jo to join me on the grass. I took a deep breath. And I told her. I told her that Steve's dad was dying, so Steve had that to deal with, on top of the craziness about his dad confessing to try and save Steve. And when she was shocked and asked me if that meant Eddie was going to die in jail, I fought down the feeling that I was going to hurl and I told her, no, because,

"Sandy did it."

Jo stared at me. Actually said, "Did what?" like the two things we were talking about couldn't be connected.

"It was Sandy. She stabbed the guy. Killed him. Said she did it because he hurt Evie." The sick feeling was coming back again. I made an effort to clear the picture that kept coming into my head, of Sandy with a blade in her hand. "They arrested her. She confessed. She had...evidence. Case closed."

Jo was frozen with her mouth open.

"There's more to it, of course. She got in with the River Kings, their leader put her up to it, but he's likely got himself an alibi, so it's all on her..."

"She said she did it for Evie?" Jo interrupted me quietly.

I nodded. "Evie said she was...spaced out. Like, high or something. She ain't right in the head. Kept talking about them being best friends—"

Jo gasped. I grabbed her into a hug.

She'd just made the connection that had freaked me out so completely; the realization that if Sandy was deranged enough to defend her 'best friendship', it could so easily have bounced back on Jo. This is why I'd needed to see her with my own eyes, see she was okay. I breathed in the smell of her hair and told her,

"I'm sorry. All of this craziness, you didn't need to be mixed up in any of it. With any of us. Didn't I tell you deserve better?"

"Whoa!" Jo shoved me back at arms' length. "You shut your trap, Sodapop Curtis! None of this is your fault. _I'm _sorry I haven't been around for_ you_." She frowned mightily. "You must've been so worried for Steve...If only I didn't promise to be here for Audrey's and then Mom's birthdays...And, oh! What if Sandy had decided she wanted you back? She might've hurt you, when you said no..."

Privately, I thought that would have been another thing to put _Jo_ in danger, but mostly I was just mighty relieved that she wasn't telling me to fuck off back to Tulsa.

"Are you okay? Like, for real?" Jo put her hand on my face. "This must all have been so freaky."

I pulled her back towards me. "I love you, do you know that?"

"I love you too," she said, leaning in to kiss me. God, how I missed her. Finally, finally, that sick feeling—which I could maybe now let myself identify as 'scared'—was drifting away.

A loud splash made both of us jump, just as Gary's lazy drawl announced, "Mom says five minutes 'til dinner." He came out of the trees behind us, pitching another stone down into the creek.

Jo jumped up on her feet. "You better not be spyin' on me, creepoid."

"Why? You doin' anything you oughtn't?" he challenged, with a pointed look at me. I stood up, but Jo scoffed:

"Oh, please. I ain't even wearing boots."

The off-the-wall comment made no sense to me, but Gary's face went purple and Jo shrieked with laughter and ducked behind me as he made to run at her. Then, to my surprise, he grinned and waved a hand like he was dismissing her.

"You'll keep," he threatened with a smile, turning back through the trees.

"Boots?" I asked quietly, as we headed back. Jo got a fit of the giggles and said she would tell me some other time.

Dinner was pretty freaky, half loud and half butt-clenchingly quiet. The 'loud' was mostly Chris and the others squabbling over second and third helpings, the 'quiet' mostly what happened every time Mr. or Mrs. McBride asked me a question. That seemed to be the cue for Jo's brothers and sister to stop whatever they were doing and all focus on me. At least Sam had gone back to his own house, I was thinking, just when the last brother showed up, half way through the meal.

He did what Pony always does with his books and slung a pile of them carelessly on the counter top, reaching for a bread roll before he was even in his seat.

"Hands!" said his mom, as Audrey jumped in with a full introduction of me and my 'wonderful' surprise appearance.

From the sink, where he was dashing his hands under the faucet, Pete blinked, making it seem like he hadn't even noticed me at the table. "Oh. Hey, man," he greeted me, reacquainting himself with the roll and a spoonful of chili.

"You learn any more today, 'bout putting us out of business?" Gary snarked, snatching the last roll before Pete could reach it.

"Not 'out of business', just 'different'," his brother said levelly. "You can't argue with the figures. An' I'm telling you, small time operations ain't gonna survive-" he ignored Gary's growling objection to being called 'small time', continuing, "Ain't we got the land here, prime hunting, fishing? People are gonna pay for all that, tourism's the way-"

"_Vacations?_ Farm vacations?"

"_Tourism_, doughnut-brain. People are gonna pay..." I lost the rest of Pete's argument as Jo leaned in and whispered to me, that since he'd started taking courses at the agricultural school, the boys were butting heads over what the future of the farm should be.

At least we were sitting next to each other. That was about the most comfortable part of the meal. That and the way Mrs. McBride had her eye on everyone at the same time, chipping into conversations, defusing arguments, distributing what was left in the various serving dishes. I couldn't stop myself smiling as she halved the last baked potato, to shut up Chris's complaint that it _'wasn't fair he never got the last piece'_. She caught my eye, realized what I was doing and gave me a kind of puzzled look.

I reached for my water glass and gulped some down.

Later, when she tried for the hundredth time to press another quilt into my arms, 'just in case', Jo groaned, _"Mom..." _until she left us on our own in the upstairs hallway.

I'd been shown where the bathroom was. Had the girls' bedroom and her mom's room pointed out to me. There was no reasonable excuse left, for me not to climb the last set of stairs.

Except Jo kissed me, of course.

"Okay, Tulsa, how about you put her down and let us all get some sleep." Gary appeared on the half landing above us.

Jo pulled a face at her brother and left me to deal. Without Sam at home, Gary was the one with a spare bed—the other room across the narrow attic hallway housed Pete and Chris and frankly I'd rather have been sleeping on the floor in there.

"_Some_ people gotta work early, get in here and lemme turn the light off," Gary griped, closing the door behind me and helpfully shoving me towards the other side of the room. His idea of helpful meant that I nearly lost my balance and I couldn't help myself squaring up to him, as I spun back on my toes and faced him. He had maybe an inch on me, no more.

"What's your problem, man?"

"My problem—_man_— is, I don't like greasy fuckers feeling up my little sister."

_No shit?_ "Look," I tried, "you oughta know, I got real respect for Jo—"

"Yeah, right. Well, _you_ oughta know, I'm a real light sleeper, so don't be getting any ideas about sneaking down to see her."

"Oh, why would I even need to, when she can do what the hell she wants—" _Don't say it, don't say it, Jesus, how stupid was I?_

Gary went very still. "Do what the hell she wants in Tulsa? Is that right?" I held my breath—_too late_—as he took enough of a step to get me backed against the wall. _He's gonna hit me,_ went through my brain and my fists closed automatically. "You got some fucking nerve, city boy." _Don't hit him first. He's Jo's brother._ _Don't hit him first._

"I love her." The words were out before I thought it through. Story of my life. Gary's eyes narrowed as he tried to work out if I was bullshitting him. I shrugged. "You can do what you like, man, you ain't gonna change that. She's the most important thing in the world to me."

He twitched backwards, just enough that I relaxed my hands. He still looked mighty suspicious, but he climbed into bed and turned his back on me without another word.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this covered quite a lot from 'Our One Rule', chapters 21, 23 and 24 to be precise, the fake alibis etc. But I wanted to keep the focus on Soda and Jo, so I hope you approve of it this way. Out of interest, if you didn't read Evie's stories, but are reading this (Ow, spoilers!) is it making sense?**

**And Pony's alibi? Yeah. So Soda picked up that _something _was off, but he's not full on psychic... ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Jo**

Finally, Audrey fell asleep. Without that I needed to hold a pillow over her face to shut up her non-stop questions.

_Yup_, Soda was even handsomer in real life than in the photo I'd sent her. _Yup_, it was hilarious how Gary was acting all 'guard dog'. _Yup_, Soda was real sweet with how polite he was to Mom and Martin. _Yup_, he kissed like a dream and _HELL NO_, I wasn't telling her any other details about what it was like making out with him.

Not with him in the house, and her gonna be able to look him in the eye at breakfast, anyway. That felt weird.

As Audrey finally went quiet, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about Soda being up there. Wondering if he was asleep already. Wondering what it would be like to be next to him while he slept. Or if I fell asleep first, what it would be like to do that, knowing he was watching over me.

This house made a lot of noises that I hadn't realized I missed at Aunt Emma's, until I was back here. But even the pipes' knocking and the timbers' creaking had settled by the time I eased back my covers and stood up. Audrey didn't stir.

I tiptoed out of the room and down the hallway, aware of the sound of my feet even though I went carefully. I glanced at the stairs up to the boys' rooms, then tapped quietly at the door I needed, before sticking my head in.

"Mom?"

She rolled her face towards the door, blinking slightly. "You need something, honey?"

"Talk to you?"

Mom was pulling on her robe as she came out, holding up her hand unnecessarily, to remind me to keep quiet until we went downstairs. She led me into the kitchen and we sat at the table, with only the porch light behind us flicked on, so that we could see just enough without it being too bright. I couldn't count how many times we'd done this as I was growing up. I shook my head when she offered to make cocoa.

"So. This is him, then, your Sodapop." No need for _'What's up?_', not with Mom.

I nodded.

"Nice manners. Don't smell any worse'n our boys—" Mom grinned as I rolled my eyes at her teasing. "Nothing wrong with him that I can see, is what I'm saying. So what you losing sleep over, Jojo?"

"I love him."

Mom nodded. "I can see that."

"He loves me."

"Uh, huh. Believe I got that too. Like I said, 'nothing wrong with him'..." _Absolutely, completely, utterly nothing._ There was a long moment where Mom studied me, before she asked, out of the blue, "Is this about Clay? Him and Valerie had quite the engagement party, so I hear from Lori Myers."

"Yeah. Audrey told me. But no, it ain't about him." I rubbed at the spot on the table where Grandpa left his pipe smoldering, one Thanksgiving. "It's just that Tulsa is...different. Stuff there is...different."

Mom nodded, waited me out.

"Soda and his brothers, an' their friends, they got things tough. In ways that are..."

"_Different_?" She was only smiling at me a little. "Do you regret goin' down there? You wanna come home?"

"No! No way. Only, some of what they've been through is bad. Real bad."

"Well, sure, but just because good kids, like Sodapop's little brother, get caught up in things—"

I practically jumped. "_What?_ Are you talking about when Ponyboy was in trouble?" I was completely thrown. That wasn't what I was thinking about, of course. _Besides..._ "Mom! I didn't tell you about that. That happened before I went down there."

Mom didn't even look guilty. "Jojo. Honey. Do you think your Uncle Jim would let you waltz all over town with a complete stranger? Could've been some _hood_, from some _gang_?" She said the words like they were in a foreign language. "He found out all about Sodapop and his family. If Jim says they're good people, they're good people."

_What?_ I was replaying the last few months in my mind, at the speed of light.

"Emma said to me that Jim already knew Sodapop's brother and he had a good opinion of him, at work. Certainly the young man was very honest, when Jim spoke to him about you dating Sodapop."

_Oh my God. Uncle Jim interrogated Darry?_

So much for my being an independent young woman.

"Baby girl." Mom scooted up and squeezed me around the shoulders. "Did you think I just let you go? Just kicked you out the nest and left you to get on with it?"

I guess not.

Mom studied me for a long second. "Why did Sodapop come up here today?"

I shrugged. "See me. Tell me some of the stuff that's been going down. He was worried."

"So he must think you're a help. Seems like you're already his 'go to'." She rubbed my arm. "But, honey, you don't have to have all the answers. You don't have to fix everything for him, you know that, right? That ain't what having someone in your life means. You just need to be there for each other."

I chewed my lip, trying to avoid telling her exactly how bad things were. How 'just being there' didn't seem anywhere near adequate.

"He ain't in trouble right now, your Sodapop? Something in particular happened?"

But I never could hide anything from Mom. So I told her, no, he wasn't in trouble. And then I told her about Evie. And Sandy. All of it.

"That poor girl." I wasn't sure which one Mom was referring to.

"I ain't sure I've been a very good friend to Evie," I confessed. "I was so mad at her boyfriend about something, I kind of stayed away when I could have helped her more."

Sure, I'd provided practical help, took her stuff I thought she might not have at Steve's house, when she ended up staying there because she was on the outs with her sister. And maybe I sort of lied to her when I said I didn't know anything about Steve and Two-Bit's argument, but I did that only to protect her feelings, because I figured she had enough to dwell on. But I could have done more.

I thought about how Evie had looked, how it wasn't the bruises and sore lip that had freaked me, held me back from seeing her again. The ghost of what had happened to her was in the back of her eyes, when she didn't think anyone was looking at her. It was in the way she still chatted and smiled, but kept Steve's arm around her, never moved from his side the whole evening, as we 'celebrated' Two-Bit's birthday.

And that had been weird, the 'party'. Everyone–except Kathy—on extra cheerful parade, trying to pretend that it was a normal evening, a normal cook out. Trying to talk about anything _except_ what happened to Evie. The whole deal felt freaky to me.

Kathy, though, she was all over the gossip, from the second she climbed into the truck. And now that I thought about that, the fact that Soda drove to the drug store and not her house, to meet her, was strange.

"Just be grateful she called and said she was out this way," was his reply to my query at the time. "Now we don't gotta duck into Kings's turf, where she lives. Why? You don't mind that I said we'd drive her over to Steve's?"

I told him 'of course not', but I had to bite my lip when Kathy started right in with, _'What did Soda know about Evie's ex?_' and _'Did he think he would be looking to start a fight with Steve now?'_

It had seemed likely to me that if he_ did_, Steve wouldn't walk away. Which brought me back to the second reason I'd avoided seeing Evie. At Steve's house.

I kept changing my mind about my boyfriend's best friend. I still really hated that he'd hurt Soda, and Darry for that matter, and as for what he'd said to Two-Bit, that was plain nasty...but then, Two-Bit had been equally cutting and they were apparently all made up now, just like Soda instantly forgave Steve.

On the one hand, I remembered the first time I'd met them, and the way Steve's eyes lit up when Evie came back to him from the dance floor. And he seemed like a real good guy, on Two-Bit's birthday, even carrying Evie into the house when she was tired. _And_ now he'd let Soda borrow his precious car, to come see me. But on the other hand, there was that temper. I wondered if I'd ever feel a hundred per cent comfortable around him.

Mom was waiting for me to expand on what I'd said about not helping Evie enough. I mumbled something about Steve and how mad he'd been. She scoffed at me:

"Honey, you wanna imagine your brother if someone hurt Paula like that? Seems to me it'd be more suspicious if this boy wasn't mad."

"Yeah, I know..." I shrugged, then blurted out my real fear, "But it seems like it can get crazy bad in the city."

"Oh, my Lord. You think no country girl ever got herself in trouble? No mean spirited farmer ever laid his hands on some poor woman? There's good and evil all over, honey. Didn't Lester Armstrong shoot his own brother dead, right outside the bank on Main Street, over a piece of land in his granddaddy's will? Maybe those gangs down there in Tulsa make it worse, but maybe not..." She took my hand in hers. "Although, _this,_ what you just told me, a girl committing murder? Well, now, I can't say that's something I ever heard before!"

Yeah. That one was the shocker, alright. I frowned as I thought about Sandy, sighing and telling myself as much as Mom, "She's real pretty. Real blonde."

Mom narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "That so? Let me remind you, _you_ are real pretty, Jojo, please remember that. 'Sides, blondes age more quickly." She shot me a wicked smile. We had the exact same hair color, although hers was shot with silver at the sides now. Audrey wasn't quite as brunette as me, but every single one of us took after Mom to one degree or another. She claimed we had Spanish blood back a few generations. I'd once overheard Sam, when he was drunk, say that Daddy told him more likely 'Mexican' than Spanish, and even more likely 'Cherokee', than Mexican. Mom's family had been original Sooners, back in the day, so I guessed any and all were possible.

Mom yawned, wrinkling up her nose. "Anyway, you don't haveta worry about other girls, blonde or not, 'cause I think we agreed you and Sodapop are in love, didn't we? And you know, given that's where this started, I admit I imagined a worse conversation for us to have."

I had a sudden belated interpretation of the searching look she'd given me, when I'd said so fervently that Soda loved me. I felt my cheeks get red and I was grateful for the shadows cast by the porch light.

"Oh. No. That's not gonna...I mean...No!" I gabbled. I knew I was gabbling, but I couldn't stop. Holy hell, this was worse than Audrey wanting to know about me making out with Soda. Way worse.

"Glad to hear it, honey. I mean, I like being a grandma an' all, but there are limits..."

"Soda is being a gentleman." And I certainly wasn't going to admit to wanting to be less than a lady myself. "You wouldn't even believe it, if I told you how sweet he is to me. How _perfectly_ sweet. And he works so hard, 'cause they got so many bills to cover an' all, and he's _such_ a good friend, if you knew how much he was there for Steve, with all this going on, an'..." I shut myself up, thinking I was sounding less like a cheer squad and more like a plumb fool.

Mom got up and put a milk pan to heat. She was making cocoa, whatever I said. Then she opened the furthest cabinet and made like she was counting.

I asked what she was doing. That wasn't where she kept the cocoa powder.

"Just seeing how much barbecue sauce I have left. Looks like I need to be thinking about putting up another batch..."

"Mom!" I had to laugh along with her. See, when I was little, at some family wedding or other, I'd eaten my own body weight in baby back ribs and declared that—_ignoring the cake and the flowers and whatnot_—what really made a wedding reception, was the quality and quantity of barbecued ribs.

xxXxx

I couldn't believe I slept in. The usual morning sounds were going on, I could smell coffee and bacon. I felt briefly guilty, like I had the last time I came home. But my chores weren't my chores any more. Now, if I pitched in with the dishes or something, it was 'extra help', like when Aunt Emma visited and there was always the chance she would stow the plates in the wrong cabinet, or cut the tomatoes in quarters when Mom wanted slices. 'Guest help' that was more of a hindrance.

My appearance in the kitchen was further delayed by the fact that I had to wrangle my hair into shape. I didn't care if Soda saw me in jeans again—these were old but cute enough to pass for pedal pushers—but I didn't want him to think I slobbed around in a plain old ponytail all the time I was in the country.

As it happened, I needn't have worried. Only Mom and Audrey were in the kitchen.

"_They what?" _ I reacted with horror when they told me the boys had taken Soda out on horseback, first thing. "Mom! You saw how Gary was, last night. And Sam won't be any better. Oh Lord, did they put him on Tabasco? They did, didn't they? Did Gary make him ride Tabasco?"

Mom all but dragged me back to the table and set orange juice and bacon in front of me. "Calm down," she said, with a grin. "They're only going down to the pond and back. They'll be back any minute. It'll be fine."

And by whatever magic Mom had worked, it _was _fine. I'd gone out to hurry Chris up—Audrey said he was in a snit, because the older ones wouldn't let him tag along— he was supposed to be feeding the chickens and collecting eggs, but he'd already been gone way longer than necessary.

As we came back across the yard, the horses appeared and Tabasco did his usual skid-to-a-stop just shy of the stable, as Soda hauled on the reins; no matter if he was walked the last half mile, that beast always had to make it home ahead of any other horse.

Then, to my amazement, the three of them were jumping down and slapping backs and grinning, for all the world like the Cartwright brothers back from some adventure.

"Mornin', Rip Van Winkle," Gary said to me, as they tied up to the rail and started undoing cinches and straps. "Did Mom make any more pancakes?"

Soda, who was following Sam's directions about cloths and brushes, smiled. At me, of course, but pretty much at the world in general and certainly at Tabasco, who was letting him scratch up behind his ear and going so far as to nuzzle at Soda's neck like some little rich girl's pet pony. I figured he'd taken a little getting used to though, because Soda's hand was kind of red, like the reins might have dragged on his knuckles and he'd managed to rip the pocket of his shirt somehow. They must have been out past the pond too, since both Soda and Gary were muddy around the knees and Gary had a smear of dirt on his face too.

I hopped up onto a rail to watch, when it became clear Soda wasn't leaving without rubbing down Tabasco and checking him over before releasing him into the corral.

"Morning," he said, finally, walking over and kissing me hello. It wasn't like a _major_ kiss, but he was way more relaxed than he had been last night. And his happy manner was nothing, compared to Sam and Gary's attitude, because they immediately started razzing the pair of us and dragging Soda back to the house to eat.

Soda protested, "Didn't we have breakfast already?" but Gary scuffed him on the shoulder, playfully.

"That was _pre_-breakfast, man. I figure we worked up more of an appetite now, huh?" The three of them laughed, as if a short morning ride out was some kind of guy secret.

I rolled my eyes and followed them inside.


	12. Chapter 12

**Soda**

I got to thinking about my savings jar on the drive home. I hadn't applied myself to it so careful since I was about ten years old and desperate for a fancy hat and vest with silver trim, like this guy I saw swanning around the rodeo one time. Never made it past sixty-five cents, back then. And 'sides I wouldn't be caught dead in such a pansy get up now.

Back then, it was mostly candy that kept the coins tipping out as often as they went it. Or caps for the Lone Ranger gun that I'd gotten for Christmas. Wonder where that went? I used to love the smell of that smoke. Never could wait for Steve to give the word, when we were creeping up on someone, to ambush them, over to the empty lot. Boy, he got mad, when I used to wreck whatever plan he'd thought up, to take the Indians or the Nazis, or whoever we were fighting, by surprise.

I wonder why we were never the 'bad guys'? Probably 'cause it was 'our' lot, so we got to choose.

There was a sight more'n sixty-five cents when I emptied the jar this time. Had to empty it, to find out. I gave up on the Mason jar a while back, being able to see the dough is just too damn tempting. We had an old moonshine jug, made of thick brown clay, lurking in the back of a kitchen cabinet, so I appropriated that. I was pretty pleased at how much I'd put by. 'Course the reason I'd been emptying it was to make sure I had gas money for this trip; using the Chevy was one thing, using up Steve's gas wasn't cool. I was thinking I might even put a little extra back in, to say thanks. The wheels/college fund could lose a spare buck at this stage, Pony was only coming up to junior year and I wasn't having much luck scouting fixable junkers anyhow.

I ran my hand over the Chevy's dash. Steve lucked out on this baby, alright. Although she still cost him hours of work I'd rather spend on dates, she was also drivable from the get go. Most of what he did was to cherry her out. Anything I could afford was likely to be a wreck I'd have to build from scratch. Hellava shame I lost the Dodge in that drag race, but it wasn't like I could claim it, after the cops had to haul it away.

I'd haveta get _something_ on the road, by the time me an' Jo got married; no way was the Rambler gonna be the only vehicle on _my_ driveway. My gut did a little flip as I followed that thought through. How were we even going to afford a place of our own? Like, a _nice_ place. A place that Jo would feel comfortable in. That farmhouse was _huge_.

I remembered when I first met her, and Steve asked if she was a Soc because of her uncle's business. Maybe being a Soc was more of a frame of mind—Jo's people weren't snobs, and no one could say working a farm wasn't honest, hard work—but _shit_, she was used to space and nice things. And I was pretty sure that there wasn't ever a day at the month-end when plain noodles were on the menu, 'cause some bill came due at the same time as the rent. I mean, that only happened once, when Darry was still getting the hang of the budget and stuff. Maybe twice.

But, nah, plain noodles hadn't _ever_ made an appearance in that farmhouse kitchen. I glanced at the packages on the passenger seat, as I thought back to that morning before I left.

Like, even though Gary woke me up at the crack of dawn, the kitchen smelled so good to come down to. I mean, nothing against Darry and Pony's cooking, or even mine. And I guess there's something to be said for mostly eating what we want, when we want it. But, _jeez_, the combination of coffee, bacon, pancakes, eggs...toast _and _biscuits...I mean, the place just smelled like...breakfast.

Although I reckon there was other cooking going on too, 'cause by the time I was leaving, Jo's mom had stuck foil wrapped packages in my hands and wouldn't take no for an answer, claiming it was only some leftovers, even though I could feel perfectly well it was a whole damn meatloaf and that couldn't have been 'left over' anyhow, since we had eaten chili the night before. And the apple pound cake was still warm.

Jo's mom grinned. "You make sure some of it gets home to your brothers, y'hear?" For a second I thought she was going to hug me. Or maybe I was going to hug her. But then everyone was saying goodbye and I was concentrating on keeping the Chevy smooth and not kicking up a load of dust by spinning the wheels, like Steve would.

That cake smelled pretty good. Should've put it in the trunk. And it was getting past a reasonable lunchtime, because I'd left later than I intended, thanks to Gary's little excursion. Not that I'd have missed the ride out, for anything. Or even the rest of it. I stretched my knuckles out on the steering wheel. Nope, that had been worth it. Seeing Jo _and_ letting off a little steam had definitely been what I needed, after the stress of the last week.

And the look on Gary's face had been the icing on the cake.

It was hard to remember that he was older than Darry, he sure didn't act it. Sam was full on grown up, he was the one really ran the farm, seeing as their step dad had another job at a grain wholesaler in town. Gary pulled his weight, but he didn't seem to take much seriously, far as I could see. If he could have spent all his time at rodeos and bars, that would have been fine by him.

I knew, the second he directed me to the stall, that the horse he had picked out was supposed to dump me on my ass and probably kick me, into the bargain. Any horse named 'Tabasco' ought to have a little zing about him, right?

Maybe it looked to Jo's brothers like I was delaying getting up in the saddle. But only a fool would leap on up, without the horse gets a sense of the smell of you and the sound of your voice. I like introducing myself to a new beast and I like when they're smart enough to get your measure back. Oh, he still tried a few tricks, but nothing I hadn't come across before—one of Mac's palominos is part mountain lion, for the way he bites, I swear—and Tabasco appreciated a rider who listened, is all.

I tried to tell Dad once, that it was important to listen to the horse. Doesn't mean you can't then say, 'Tough, we're still doing it my way,' it just means some animals respect you more than if you straight out whip 'em into submission. Don't know if Dad got all of it, he was more of a wild rider, like Dally, able to hang on anywhen, anyhow.

Gary was pretty pissed, I could tell, that I stayed on and stayed with him as he led the way out across their acreage. _Tough shit_, is what I thought. I told him clear enough, the previous night. Ain't nothing he could come up with that would scare me off from being with Jo.

And then we hit the pond. It was a real pretty place but I didn't have time to appreciate the view before a loud crack, then another, sounded from the trees on the other side of the water. Fair to say I jumped more than Tabasco. But then that noise wouldn't have flicked the same image into his head. _Shadows from a street light, pooled on the sidewalk_. Which was crazy, in the bright morning sun.

"Fuckin' poachers!"

"Gary!" Jo's oldest brother yelled in—what? Alarm? Annoyance? Either way, it did nothing to hold back the figure on the ratty-looking bay. A horse that turned out to have more speed than his moth eaten ears and straggly tail suggested.

Tabasco was offended. Truthfully, he'd wanted to be in the lead the whole time, but I'd held him back, and not only because I didn't know the way. This time, I let him chase and catch up to Gary, through the mud at the edge of the pond and down through a stand of cottonwoods. I felt a tug as a stray branch caught on my shirt, but had no time to look as we burst into a clearing and came face to face with a couple of guys. They both had beer cans in their hands and one had a hunting rifle.

I sat as still as I could. Tabasco wasn't even blowing after that short sprint and neither was Doughnut—for some stupid reason, my brain took the time to remember that Gary's horse was called _Doughnut. _

"'S'up, Harrison?" One of the guys grinned drunkenly, as Sam came up behind us at a more careful pace.

Gary slid to the ground and stalked over. I reached reflexively for his reins, although Doughnut was still as a rock. "_'S'up?_ I'll tell you 'what's up', fucker, you're on our land." He shot out an arm and grabbed the rifle, pulling it easily from the grasp of the taller guy. I flinched a little as he did it, but the guy just laughed, even when Gary cracked the gun open and emptied out the shot.

"What the hell you doing out here, Duane?" That might have been the longest sentence I'd heard from Sam.

"Li'l target practice, is all," was the snarky response. From the other one, the one built like a linebacker.

"You shut the fuck up. Who was talkin' to you?" Gary snapped. He got a sneer in return, as the other guy proceeded to drain his beer and toss the can to the dirt.

"_Still_? Man, you _still _got a wasp up your ass? What makes you so holy? Ain't like you never had more'n one chick on the go, you an' all them buckle bunnies..."

Gary tensed up his fist, taking a step forward. "You did not just compare my sister to—"

"_Gary_." Sam's voice was calm but clear as he growled, "Fuck off home, Clay, and take your brother with you."

I was already on the ground.

"What you gotta realize—" the guy was still goading Gary "—your sister ain't got no one but herself to blame. If she wasn't so fuckin' frigid—"

He went back like a felled tree. I'd like to say I felt a little guilty, 'cause he was crocked and didn't see me, or my fist, coming, but I wasn't. The shock on Gary's face was plenty amusing.

Duane, the brother, lunged forward pretty quick for being as loaded as he was, but Gary clocked him a good one. He reeled but came back with a sloppy punch that caught Gary on the cheek by pure luck. Gary put him on his ass by way of reply.

He turned and started to say something to me, just as Clay lumbered to his feet and came at me. I sidestepped and he tripped past. Gary kicked him in the rear end, then leaned down to the groggy Duane and repeated Sam's instruction: "Fuck off home, the pair of you, and don't come out this way again."

We waited for the two of them to slope off, towards a fenceline along the dirt road I could make out in the distance, before we relaxed. Then Gary grinned.

"Nice work, Tulsa."

"Yeah, nice," Sam echoed, but followed it up with: "Shame you gotta walk back." He was on the right side to have caught hold of the rock-still Doughnut's rein, but Tabasco was nowhere in sight. Gary chuckled. I looked around, to remind myself which direction the pond was in, then started on up through the trees, clicking my tongue against my teeth.

I saw him, down by the water, just before I came out into the open. I knew he wouldn't recognize my whistle, but it got his attention enough that he heard the clicking, which I'd been doing quietly in his ear all the way up, on and off. Tabasco ambled over to me and I grabbed a handful of mane and swung up, scooping up the reins and patting his neck in appreciation. There was no guarantee he would have come back to me, but I let myself look modestly confident.

"Holy shit."

I grinned at Gary. At his face, which was even more shocked than when I laid out Clay.

Sam grinned too, as he passed us. "Nice work, Tulsa," he whispered for my ears only. And on the walk back, I started to relax. I wasn't on trial any more. And when Sam said, in his quiet way,

"I don't reckon Joey needs to know 'bout this," it felt like the three of us had reached an understanding.

It was tough, to say goodbye to Jo, but I knew she'd be back at the weekend. _Back home_, she said to me, when she kissed me, and my heart felt like it was a helium balloon. Even when I got caught in a snarl up on the Turnpike, crawling along for a couple of miles, I still didn't regret using up my day off and owing Steve for the shift he'd covered the previous day. I'd needed to see her and I felt better because I had.

xxXxx

"_Half_ a cake? Jo's mom sent us _half_ a cake?" Ponyboy peered suspiciously at the crumpled foil package.

Darry snorted. "Half? What shape do you think it started off as, huh? I reckon we're looking at a quarter, tops."

"There was traffic," I said loftily. "I got caught in traffic."

"Hmm." Darry stowed the meatloaf in the icebox, having sniffed it appreciatively. "Well, be sure an' thank her for us."

I slapped my forehead in mock horror. "I knew I shouldn't have just ripped it out her hand!"

"I meant," Darry rolled his eyes as he spoke, "be sure and tell her we liked it, _after_ we eat it."

Pony grinned. "I don't think it's worth saving this little piece." Yeah, and I'd noticed he'd held onto the cake.

"Knock yourself out," I told him and he disappeared happily towards his room.

Darry offered me a second soda, since I'd sunk the first one in one gulp.

"Nah, I'd better get the Randle-mobile home," I told him, with a glance at the clock. Steve should be finishing up about now.

"You have a good time up there? Jo okay?" He was doing his 'innocent question' thing again. The thing where the question sounds perfectly reasonable, but the answer it gets out of you can be more than you intended to tell him. I wondered for a second if he could do that to everyone, or just me.

I nodded. Maybe I'd tell him, about how great it was. Later, maybe later. Just not the part about how big the house was, or how_ nice_ the house was. And not ever about how Jo's mom was.

I paused on my way out, by the photo on the shelf. It wasn't a wedding photo, 'cause Mom and Dad never had a photo taken then. Mom always made out that she didn't mind them getting married in a rush, when Dad swung a twenty four hour leave pass, short notice, no time for photos. The way Dad told the story, it was like something from a movie, him arriving all unexpected and sweeping her off to a Justice of the Peace, without her dad knowing, 'cause he would have stopped 'em for sure.

The photo was from when he got discharged, later that year. The porch looks kind of the same, but different too—Mom said it was painted another color then—and the corner of Darry's baby carriage is just behind them. When he hit twenty one, he was the same age they were in the picture. Smiling at the camera, Dad's hand on her shoulder. I never really saw Mom's hair pinned up exactly like that, but it still looks like her, because of the smile.

* * *

**A/N: Ha, ha. Was everyone as trusting as Jo then, and assumed Soda and the brothers had a nice, peaceful horseback ride?! I figured it might take a little more to get Gary onside! :)**

**A couple of people mentioned the borrowing of the Chevy - it isn't in the original, there's just a gap of time where Soda and Jo aren't mentioned in the Tulsa action and Steve doesn't drive anywhere. Now you know why! **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Great that this is picking up new followers, 'Hello' and 'Thank you' :) Reads in general are down a bit, on the last couple of chapters, which is worrying...who's still in?**

* * *

**Jo**

So, I'd discovered there _was_ something I'd liked about school. Something I missed. _Summer vacation_. I couldn't believe I hadn't appreciated it more at the time. I mean, it wasn't like I ever spent the entire summer just lazing around, there were always chores and I picked up as much babysitting as I could back then, but still, it wasn't anything like nine to five in an office with two lousy fans blowing paperwork around, and everyone kind of grumpy from the heat.

Realistically, I knew that Soda was working too, so it wasn't as if we'd have spent all day, every day hanging out, but it still sucked.

"Man alive, I am looking forward to a _loooong _shower, when I get home." Lynette winked as she imparted this information, holding her hair up off her neck and fanning herself with a paint catalog. I waited for her to expand on the insinuation—that tone of voice meant only one thing, as far as Lynette was concerned.

She was mysterious—she thought—about how old she was, but from her comments about other jobs and how long she'd worked for Uncle Jim, I reckoned she was twenty four, although she acted like she was still in school sometimes, especially like the girls who used to hang out by the football players' lockers 'by chance'. For instance, Lynette had a large collection of very tight sweaters that seemed to get worn specifically on the days she had to collect invoices from the warehouse. Some of the catcalls that came her way made my face burn and they weren't even directed at me! I scurried through the place any time I had to deliver a message or something, not looking at the girlie calendars and trying to ignore the whistles—and I was treated fairly respectfully, being the boss's niece an' all.

The sweaters also got paired with her shortest work skirt on Thursdays, I noticed, regular as clockwork, even though that wasn't invoice day. Besides which, it didn't take too long for me to spot that Lynette made mistakes in her typing. Or her filing. Or sometimes in the order book. But only on a Thursday.

On my third or fourth week, I watched as she deliberately made herself have something extra to do, late in the day, so she had to stay back. Usually I was keen to go – not that I hated the job or anything, but you know, quitting time is quitting time. And Thursday was as good as the weekend and the weekend was date nights. It was funny that I could count my time with Soda to the day I started work, and back then we were still new at dating and finding out about each other, and I was desperate for the weekends to come around. But I was also curious about what the hell Lynette was up to.

"I can help with that," I offered, as she dragged out a pile of filing that needed redoing.

She told me no, she was happy to stay behind. But I saw the way her eyes kept wandering over to the parking lot as she sorted the paperwork. I pretended to drop my pencil pot and took my time over picking up every last item.

The door to the office opened and I heard him say, "Hi." Heard him ask her if the next week's roster had been done. Because that's what happened on a Thursday, so that's when he checked what shifts were coming up.

"Hi, Darry," I popped up from behind my desk.

Darry smiled at me. "Hi, yourself," he said. "Don't usually see you this late."

"I was just heading out," I replied, pulling on my jacket and smiling sweetly at Lynette, who was doing her best to maintain a professional air, as she looked over the roster.

She pounced on me the next morning. "How do you even know him?" she demanded. Which made sense, because I hadn't known her long and I'd been hugging my relationship with Soda to myself, still not quite believing how things had turned out. But once I told Lynette about Soda, she was relentless in getting me to set her up with Darry. It worked surprisingly easy—Soda thought it was a complete gas and told Darry as soon as I told him, and then Darry turned out to be no slouch in the game and asked Lynette on a date the very next day. I didn't know why he had never paid attention to all her flirting before. Maybe he didn't want to mix his work and his private life. Maybe he was worried about striking out and still having to face her every week. She didn't take long to let him know there wasn't going to be any striking out.

After which point, it got interesting. Although not always believable.

Evie burst out laughing when I asked her, one time, if what Lynette had told me was true. I knew she thought I was naive and I guess I proved it, by simply nodding along when Lynette told me stuff about her intimate times with Darry, and then asking Evie to explain later.

The guys had their heads inside the hood of the Chevy, and Evie and I were sitting at a window booth in the DQ, watching them. I swear, if I had a buck for every time one of our dates started out that way, I'd be a freaking millionaire!

I'd just told Evie the latest of Lynette's outlandish claims. "But how...?" I trailed off, suddenly coming up with a possible answer in my own mind. Evie snorted inelegantly.

"He's a big guy, plenty of muscles, huh? And she can't weigh much more than all that stuff he carries up on roofs..."

I knew I was blushing, but I didn't know how to stop it. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to look Darry in the eye, ever again.

"Get Soda to try it," Evie said, with a wicked gleam in her eye. "I'mma get Steve to give it a go tonight." Back then she didn't know that Soda and I weren't going all the way, and she kind of assumed we were. Part of my embarrassment came from those assumptions; I wasn't sure what was going on with us myself, and it wasn't something I could imagine discussing yet.

Right then the guys were coming in the door and although they were too far away to hear us, Steve obviously picked up that Evie was talking about him because he raised his eyebrows in a definite question.

"Ooh, ask Soda about the other thing Lynette said too...What?" Evie pretended not to understand why I was mortified. "They're brothers, he must've seen him in the shower or something..." She let out another peal of laughter. I squeaked in embarrassment and tried to shush her.

"Seriously, _chicks_, nothing but gossip on their minds," Steve said, sliding in next to Evie.

She tapped her knuckle on his head. "Seriously, _guys_, nothing at all on theirs..."

Steve grabbed her around the waist and tickled her as she yelled, slapping at his chest until he kissed her instead. They were so comfortable with each other. They didn't care a jot who was around to see it. Same as they didn't seem to care that everyone knew they slept together. Like it was perfectly normal, perfectly acceptable.

Back then, trying to fit in with the way chicks dressed in the city and the way chicks behaved in the city, I felt like I was the only one not 'in' on some secret.

By the end of August, when Lynette made her cryptic remarks about getting Darry in the shower, I didn't feel quite so naive. About a lot of things.

Maybe Soda and I had cleared the air, reached an understanding that I was happy with, about the fact that we were 'waiting'. I believed him, when he said he wanted us to be together forever. Although I still caught him making an occasional remark about how he didn't deserve me, for some reason or other that existed only in his mind. Once or twice, his expression was 'off' too, when I talked about something up on the farm. I didn't understand that at all, because he had a good time up there.

And I wasn't so sure I envied Evie any more, not in relation to her free and easy attitude. I knew that it was unfair and sounded like I was blaming her, but I just couldn't imagine _why_ she'd dated the creep who attacked her, in the first place. He wasn't even the only one of her previous boyfriends with a serious criminal record.

It was all on my mind again, because Sandy's trial had been held the previous week. It frightened me, for her to be declared insane. Which is what all the legal mumbo jumbo boiled down to. So, she wouldn't go to prison, she'd be locked up in Eastern State. Was there a difference?

It raked everything up again, for Soda, for Evie. It was like the court case was ripping off the scab that had formed over the whole sorry business. So many people in their lives who'd done something to hurt them.

Sometimes it seemed like the more I learned about the world, the more complicated everything got.

xxXxx

I'd begged off dancing, it was too damn hot. It didn't seem to bother Soda and only the last weekend he'd dragged me, Steve and Evie to a roadhouse miles away because he wanted to see the band that was playing. It wasn't much fun dancing in the sweaty crowd and this weekend I'd said no.

It was too hot for the movies as well.

It was too hot to go anywhere, except up to the lake.

That didn't necessarily mean I wanted to be in the water right away. I was just as happy to lie on a blanket in my bikini, chatting to Evie, while Soda's energy and Steve's competitive streak made them leap from the dock repeatedly, spicing up their swimming with masses of splashing.

"Time to settle this, for once an' all, who's the best swimmer," Steve had declared, as he shucked off his T shirt, letting it fall on the blanket near Evie.

"No contest," was Evie's response. She was already leaning back on her elbows and sunbathing. As Steve grinned in triumph, she added lazily, "_Tim Shepard_."

Soda burst into laughter.

"Not true," Steve stated. "I am a way better swimmer than Tim Shepard."

"Oh, yeah, me too. I'm better in a fight than him, too." Soda aimed a few mock punches Steve's way, dodging about on his toes like a boxer. "In fact, anything you like, I'm better. Seeing as how he ain't gonna hear about it, seeing as he's all the way in Vietnam." He shoved Steve playfully, then ducked under the returning blow and made a break for the water, whooping at the top of his voice.

After they'd both splashed into the lake, I looked over at Evie. "Tim Shepard? He's the gang one, right? The hood?" She nodded. "He got drafted?"

"Kind of." Evie adjusted her sunglasses and lay down flat on her back.

"Soda told me he was kind of scary."

She made an amused noise. "He was, I guess."

"You know him?" I pushed.

"I _met_ him." She was smiling to herself, at me and my questions, I knew. "We weren't best buds or nothin'." I actually knew a little more than that. Soda wasn't great at telling important details, but when he'd tried to explain what had gone down with Evie and the creep, he'd mentioned that she got Tim Shepard involved.

"What are you really thinking?" She had this way of seeing right through me.

I shrugged, embarrassed. "I don't get it. All the fighting. The gangs an' stuff."

"'S'the way it is, I guess. Turf matters, when you don't have nothin' else to defend." Evie pushed up on one elbow, moving her sunglasses down to look at me. "It's kind of lonely, you don't belong to some group or other."

"Yeah, but Soda laughed, when I said that _they_ all go around in a gang. Said it ain't the same, but I don't understand why not."

She laughed. "Suppose you thought it oughta be called 'The Curtis Gang', 'cause there's more of them? Yeah, right. Like Steve would belong to any gang not named after him. An' you never met Dallas. He wasn't the joining kind at all."

"_That_," I said. "Exactly. I don't get that either. I know he was their friend, but he sounds like a criminal, and yet they talk about him like he was a good guy." When they talked about him at all.

Evie's eyes slid over to the bank.

"Sorry. I guess I oughtn't bring it up."

She smiled tightly. "'S'okay. I'll tell ya, but not when Steve's around, huh?"

The guys were coming back, dripping and flicking water onto us. I handed Soda a Pepsi and the church key.

Steve flung himself down next to Evie, draping a wet arm across her middle. "See?" he demanded. "Ain't I a good swimmer?"

"Yup," she lied, with a smile, seeing as how we hadn't been watching them at all. "You're the best, baby." Her sappy tone and the airhead-style giggle that followed made him roll his eyes. But he didn't grab her to tickle. There was a gentleness in him, since what happened, I thought. Or maybe I just noticed it more.

He looked around. "Did we bring any food?"

"I don't know. Did _we_ bring any food?" Evie shot back, sarcastically.

"I'm starving."

"You ate right before we left." Evie was rooting in her purse as she spoke. She held out half a roll of Five-Flavor Life Savers and Steve groaned,

"That it?" as he ripped into them.

Evie said, "Hey!" for some unknown reason and Steve paused, his hand half way to his mouth. He inspected the three candies he'd grabbed and carefully extracted the orange one, offering it back to her. She held it in her front teeth and leaned forwards to kiss him, saying 'Thank you' around the candy before she lay back down and he flopped onto his front, next to her. She was going to have a paler patch across her stomach if Steve left his arm there long enough.

Soda offered me the last of the Pepsi, but I shook my head. He smiled. "You wanna go swimming now?"

"Not if you're gonna splash me."

"I won't. Scout's honor." He held his hand over his heart.

We'd gone a couple of steps when Steve said, without looking up or even opening his eyes. "He got kicked out the Scouts. Just so you know."

Soda pulled a shocked face and mimed complete innocence.

"Also, Little League. And that church thing. What was that called? 'Pathfinders', or something?" Now he squinted up at Soda who was pulling a different kind of face. "Hey," Steve said, cheerfully. "Just in the interest of full disclosure, man."

"You got kicked out too. In fact, it was you _got _me kicked out of Little League."

"I don't remember that," said Steve, at the exact same time Evie said with a sigh, "What'd you do?"

Soda smirked. "_'Bringing the game into disrepute'_."

"_Little League_?" I queried. "How old were you? An' how can you bring kid baseball into disrepute?"

Steve raised up on his elbows. "Look, if someone's gonna umpire, they oughta be able to take a little heat, is all I'm saying." He flopped down again.

"You punched him." Evie sighed.

There was a non-committal noise from Steve, who looked like he was trying to sleep.

"He punched him," confirmed Soda.

"Yeah, but I never set the baby Jesus alight, in the Christmas display thing. That was all you."

Evie snorted with laughter and I rounded on Soda. "You didn't!"

"It was an accident!" Soda was grinning too much for me to be truly outraged. He shrugged. "I just thought that candlelight would be more authentic, for the stable an' all. They never had electric light back then." He was real good at doing an innocent face, when he wanted to. "It wasn't the baby Jesus anyway. It was mostly the donkey got singed. And one of the wise men." The whole while he was talking, he was crouching down, leaning towards the water. As he went on with the story, he crept back towards the blanket, only now he was holding out the Pepsi bottle which he'd filled with lake water. When he got within arm's reach, he tipped it out onto the back of Steve's head.

Evie shrieked, at the splash that hit her, and Steve jumped up with a roar. But Soda was already gone, away across the grass and down past the little dock, where Steve caught him and they wrestled back into the water.

I sat down and passed Evie a towel.

She cussed some about how annoying guys were, clicking her tongue on her teeth. "Mentality of eight year olds!"

"More like five," I said and she grinned. I asked her if it wasn't good though, for Steve to relax, away from the house and his dad. I didn't tell her who had put that idea in my head, but I'm sure she knew.

"I guess," she partially agreed. "Him and Eddie, it's complicated."

"At least they got this time, to get things clear. Say goodbye."

"Steve says being able to say goodbye ain't helpin'. Says he thinks it'd be better if Eddie just...went."

"He'd better not say that to Soda," I snapped, indignant on his behalf. And my own. "That's a crock. My dad went sudden, an'...an' that's a crock." I was angry enough to lose my grip on a more varied vocabulary.

"Okay. I ain't saying that myself." Evie shrugged an apology. "How old were you?"

"Nine. He had a heart attack." I shredded a long strand of grass.

Evie sighed. "I don't really remember my dad." She bit her lip, looking over to the lake. "Steve don't mean it anyway, when he says that. He don't know what he thinks, about Eddie dying. He don't know what to feel." She smiled at me sadly. "An' he loved Soda's folks, so he won't say nothing stupid to him, don't worry."

I hugged my knees, watching the two guys in the water, horsing around. Watching Soda do what he did best: making other people feel better.

* * *

**A/N: For Josefin, who asked about Jo's siblings: :) Sam is 25, Gary 23, Pete 21. Audrey turned 20 during Jo's recent visit. Jo is 17 at this point (her birthday is late January) and Chris is nearly 14. They all had the same dad. Martin was a friend of his, who helped run the farm after their dad died, and Jo's mom married him about four years before this started. (I know, you didn't ask about that, but I thought I'd add it!) **


	14. Chapter 14

**Soda**

"See?" Pony accused. "_This_. This is exactly why I never said anything before."

"What _this_?" said Two-Bit indignantly, at the exact same time as me. We high-fived the jinx away, then clinked our beers together 'cause our high-five was so excellent. Might not have been our first beers.

Pony rolled his eyes.

Usually Darry went right to bed, when he got in from his shift at the warehouse, but he'd stuck around when he realized the conversation was getting interesting. He'd evicted Pony from his favorite armchair and was now sipping a beer of his own as he told him, "No one's judging, but you can't blame us for being interested."

"Yeah," I added, "we all contributed, so it's your turn, is all."

At which point, unhelpfully, Darry pulled a face and rocked his hand side to side, in a so-so gesture. "Actually, you kept it on the down low, little bud, when you got with your first." _Traitor._

I protested that I had told him all about the first girl I had sex with.

"After the fact. _Way _after the fact."

"Well, it's way after the fact now, for the kid, so the argument still holds." Two-Bit closed his mouth sharply as Pony shot him a filthy look. Then he grinned, unrepentant, "Oh, c'mon. I think they figured it out. Hell, you had the best alibi of any one of us!"

Hell, yes he did, and I had in fact figured it out a while back. A couple of weeks afterwards, in fact. Long before he actually introduced any of us to the chick in question.

About a week after I got back from my first visit to Jo's mom's, I was working off the shift I owed Steve. He was having a harder time than he admitted, with the news that his dad was dying and Evie was still pretty shook up over the fact of Sandy...well, who wasn't? But I figured the least I could do was work back the shift and let them have a whole day together.

'Course it meant that I was pretty tired myself, and less than pleased to get a customer, right at the end of the night when I was prepping to close down the pumps. Especially when I saw it was a hippie wagon pulling in, all beads and 'happy face' shit in the windows. Half the time they try and barter for the gas and the other half it takes forever for them to cough up, 'cause they're too wasted to deal with the real world.

The driver climbed out while I measured his measly buck's worth of gas. He cocked his head like he was listening to the pump real hard, and started humming a tune that fitted the swooshing noise of the gas. Batshit, like most of 'em.

I followed him to the front of the VW when it came time to pay, in case he was going to ditch, but he leaned in and scrabbled for some dimes and quarters on the seat. When he held out his hand I blinked in surprise. Then I shoved him back against the side of the van, with my forearm across his neck and my other fist in his tie-dye T shirt, to hold him in place.

"Where'd you get that?" I demanded. "That's _my_ lighter!"

In his palm, along with the coins, was the metal lighter Dad had given me, after my first rodeo. I didn't smoke back then, but it had a horse head on the side and I always liked it. Since I never won a thing that first time, I think Dad felt bad for me.

"Whoa, man, what're you getting so bent out of shape about?" The guy grinned at me happily. "Things _are_. Nothing belongs to anybody." I wanted to pop him just for the pleasure of shutting up his freaky nonsense, but I restrained myself.

"Leave him alone!" A second voice was less cheerful about my accusation and a chick scrambled across the seat, leaning out to make a grab for me, as she yelled. I easily ducked aside and repeated my claim about the lighter, as she climbed down, ready to scratch my eyes out.

"Look underneath," I insisted. "Tell me it ain't got a 'S' engraved on it." 'Engraved' was kind of an exaggeration, seeing as how I'd scratched it on with a blade, myself. But the principle held.

"Baby girl, you got any objection I give this angry soul this lighter?"

"No, you can't," she protested. "I borrowed it from a friend. I gotta give it back." She was a cute little thing, big eyes and short hair, which suited her even if it looked like she'd cut it herself. "Let go of my brother!" she directed at me, considerably angrier than the spacey guy. She was younger than him, than me. And like I said, cute, for all the firebreathing.

"Borrowed it...from a friend?" I said slowly, an idea starting to come together. "Goes by the name of Ponyboy, by any chance?"

"You know him too?" The hippie guy beamed at me. "A very cool being, 'half a pony, half a boy'. He's like, part of nature. An' the dude can draw." I let go of him. Sounded like they did know my brother. The little chick was looking at me suspiciously.

"Pony gave you the lighter?" I asked again. She shrugged.

"Not 'gave'. He left it behind. I was gonna give it back."

Pretty eyes. I thought if I was Pony's age, I would probably think she was _very_ cute. I thought if I was Pony's age, I would probably be fed up by now, with the chicks at school who were mostly split into the kind who never put out and the kind who did, but who scared the hell out of quiet, not-in-any-gang guys. I was never as quiet as Pony, in or out of school.

"I want it back. So you better make sure it gets back to him, yeah?" I told her.

She nodded.

I'd seen this particular hippie wagon around the neighborhood, and parked up. I knew where they lived. Hell, everyone knew where they lived. If the lighter didn't make it home soon, I could find her easy enough.

"You in school?" I asked her and she shrugged, as the brother answered,

"_Life_ is an education, man."

I ignored him, apart from taking the cash for the gas. But I told the chick, "_Pony_ is in school. He's good at it, too. He don't need nothing taking the edge off that, you dig? He's got college in his future."

She nodded.

And I let her go with the lighter. A couple of days later, it reappeared on my dresser. Pony never said a word to me and for some reason, I never said anything to him either.

I mean, I could have taken the lighter and the information and rubbed his nose in it when I got home that day. _'Hey, Pony, I met your girlfriend today'_. Like I could have gone straight to Darry and told him about the pot and everything. But I hadn't smelled it on Pony since the 'day of the alibis' and he hadn't seemed to be wasted at any time. You'd better believe I watched for it.

He was different from me, from Darry. We enjoyed ripping on each other, always had. Pony was...sensitive. He was lucky he was a greaser as well, or else he might've been the kind of kid who gets his head flushed and his ever-present library books too. I guessed he had a balance going, somehow.

So I figured I would wait for him to tell me, about the little hippie chick and whatever else he wanted to share. It nearly killed me at first, over the summer, when he disappeared for afternoons or evenings, not to say anything. But what with Steve and his dad, Sandy's trial, all of the fall-out from what happened, I guess I had other stuff on my mind. And it was a long, long time, before Pony suddenly announced that he would bring a date to one of our pizza nights.

Turned out the hippie chick's name was Carrie and she was about as quiet as Pony was, at least in front of us. Everyone was cool though, even the girls were nice to her, on Pony's account.

But there was no way for it not to be a topic of intense interest to everyone, especially Two-Bit, and he started up that night, as soon as he came through the door to find me and Pony watching the late night movie. The beer helped, I admit. He was still trying to jimmy out information when Darry joined us.

Pony objected to being forced into a bull session. Two-Bit waved aside his refusal.

"Bull session? Who said anything about a bull session? This is a companionable chat—" he paused to deliberately ignore my amusement at his use of the word 'companionable' "—as if _we _would expect _you_ to tell us anything salacious. That's '_dirty'_, for you vocabulary-challenged fools." He winked at me. I flipped him off. "Alls we wanna know is, _where_, _when_, _how many times_ and _how was it_?"

Pony shook his head. "Are you not getting enough yourself, that you gotta hear about everyone else?"

"Hey," said the rabidly single Two-Bit. "I'm the only one still fishing in a wider pond, it seems. What with Soda all loved up and the big guy pinned—"

"Am not," protested Darry.

"You seen any other chicks since Lynette got her claws into you?"

"Don't need to," he replied, with a certain smile.

Two-Bit spread his hands out. "My point. And thus, we are all, in our own special way, ready to offer advice and encouragement, but you gotta spill first, kid, so we know what areas to address."

"'Thus'?" I objected. "'_Thus'_?"

"What is your problem today? Can't a person express themselves adequately without you getting all bent out of shape?"

"You been watching them old Sherlock Holmes movies, again," I said. "You always talk funny when you do that!"

Two-Bit smiled. "Elementary, my dear Curtis."

"That doesn't make sense," muttered Pony.

"I ain't telling him," Two-Bit said. "I'm _describing_ him."

Pony burst into laughter but I didn't see why it was so funny, Two-Bit quoting the movie.

He nodded. "And...back to the subject in hand. Ooh, how is she with your 'subject' _in hand_? You can tell us that much, can't you?"

Pony went redder than the last time he got a sunburn. "Stop," he said.

"At least tell me you're being careful." Darry said to him. "You want more rubbers, you tell me, huh?"

"_More_?" I said, over Pony's embarrassed squawk. "What 'more'? You knew?"

"No. I gave him some ages ago. I was trying to get ahead of the curve, in case he grew up like _you_." Darry aimed a lazy kick my way.

"Ahem." Two-Bit made a dramatic but not very realistic cough and raised his eyebrow at Darry, who smirked and said,

"Don't start in on me, Mathews."

I wondered what dirt Two-Bit had on Darry, but I never got the chance to ask, because Pony got up and said, "I'm done. Goodnight, sleazes."

But, something about the subject must have got to him, because he appeared at my door just after I started undressing for bed.

"Do you think it means something? That I don't wanna...that I can't talk about Carrie, like Two-Bit wanted?"

I wasn't sure what he was getting at, what it should mean, other than he was shyer than us. I told him Two-Bit was teasing him, pure and simple, and half of what went on in bull sessions was complete make believe anyway.

"I know that!" He came in and sat on the end of my bed. "But, there is a difference, in the chicks everyone talks about. Even Two-Bit shut up about Kathy, when they were going steady. And you never talked about Jo, not once."

"Uh huh," I agreed, cautiously. Steady girls got different treatment, but fifteen was kind of young to be going there.

"See, I don't think it's that about Carrie..." Pony rubbed his nose, nervously, then blurted, "Soda, do you think...do you think it's okay that I don't love her?" Wow. I was not expecting that. Pony pulled a guilty face. "I mean, I don't think I do. How are you supposed to know?"

I knew the answer to that. "_You just do_." He took it about as well as Steve, that time I shared the philosophy with him. I have no clue why. When Mom said it to me, it made perfect sense.

"Well, _great_." Pony exhaled sharply. "I guess I don't then. I mean, I _like_ her. Loads. But it ain't like I thought it would be, to be 'in love'."

"Did you tell her you did? _Love_ her, I mean. 'Cause that's kind of low, if you say it just to get in her underwear."

"No! It wasn't like that. It just...happened."

"Yeah. It does that." I was reminded of a few 'happenings' of my own.

There was a loose thread on the quilt edge and Pony started rolling it between his fingers, as he smiled to himself. "It's nice. I like doing it."

It took everything I had to keep from slapping him on the back. "So, what's the problem, then? You like it, she likes it. No one's lying to anyone else."

"Oh, I dunno." He flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. "I suppose I thought...When Mom made Dad give me the edited highlights for the 'birds n' bees', he was all about 'when a mommy and daddy love each other...'—"

"Seriously?" I was surprised.

"Yeah, and a 'married mommy and daddy' at that!"

"Jeez, how old were you?"

He shrugged. "Nine or so? I was reading the encyclopedia and it got to 'R' for 'reproduction'."

_Edited highlights_, indeed. It wasn't quite so abstract when Dad sat me an' Steve down for 'the talk'. And he never tried to snow us with any bull about 'married mommies and daddies'. Mainly 'cause he'd caught us discussing real, live girls with real, live bodies that we were suddenly very interested in. So we got the low down on real life contraception and associated responsibilities.

But, yeah, it was still about 'respect' and all that. I went a little off track for a while. It made me sad, to think that Dad never got to that particular talk with Pony.

I told him that Dad would've been more honest, when it came time for the full lecture, talked about feelings and stuff.

"Yeah? When Darry gave me the rubbers, he was kind of...practical."

"Well, Dad would've been that too. He made me 'n Steve practice on bananas."

Pony burst out laughing at that.

In my capacity as the older, wiser one, I felt I ought to check: "But, you an' the hippie chick _are_ being careful, right?"

"Don't call her that."

I apologized. I didn't mean to trash his girlfriend. I pointed out that the fact that he didn't feel like dishing could just as likely mean he was a nice guy—_more mature_, was how I put it. I didn't want him to think I was calling him a wuss. It didn't have to mean he felt Carrie was the one and only.

"Yeah?" He seemed happy to hear it.

"Hell," I continued. "You ain't exactly expected to settle down at fifteen."

"You had a lot of 'girlfriends', huh?" He squinted at me, embarrassed. I shrugged.

"I guess."

"_Soda_. You went to the school I go to. I hear what people say."

"Well, maybe you can't call 'em all 'girlfriends' but if they say I was a two-timer, they're lying."

Pony rolled his eyes. "Nah. Not that."

My turn to feel embarrassed. "Listen. You might not believe this, but I ain't proud of all they _do _say. I made some horrible choices. I reckon you're already better than me."

"How so?"

"Well, you're _dating_ Carrie, ain't ya? Most of my one night stands, man, they were usually kind of skanky. Hook ups at parties and the like. You an' her are going together. You're more like Darry, in that respect."

Pony's eyes bulged a little. But it was true. Darry had always tended to date the chicks he got with. Far as I knew.

"Carrie digs okay. For all the..._alternative lifestyle_." I grinned. "I bet there's some freaks in that house, huh?"

"You know what? They're kind of interesting." He saw my skeptical look. "Yeah, yeah, I know, all the shit about karma and the universe...but some of it...I mean, I think we _should_ take time to notice a really beautiful rainbow, or"—for some reason his voice dropped to a whisper—"a sunset." He shook himself a little. "Besides, you should hear some of the arguments they got against the draft. They make so much sense."

"Bet they don't make much sense when they're hopped up on whatever they're popping, sniffing or shooting up this week."

Pony shrugged. "Some of 'em do, some of 'em don't. And if you think it's just hippies on that shit, you're wrong."

"I don't care if it's hippies or frigging church ministers. I only care about you."

"What the hell do you think_ I'm_ on?" He was completely indignant. "I don't do any of that."

I gave him a level stare. "Ever?"

"Not the 'popping, sniffing, shooting up'." His amusement didn't sway me. "Aw, Soda, don't tell me you never smoked a joint."

"We ain't talking about me. But, no." Maybe I mentally crossed my fingers, against being caught lying.

"Would this be like the time you tried to tell me you didn't drink alcohol?"

_That_ I had to smile at. "I never said that. You misinterpreted something I was saying. To someone else. Eavesdropper."

"Anyway, don't sweat it. It ain't regular. At all. I don't like what it does to my drawings." He looked almost shy. "That's mostly what I do over there. They let me draw and paint on the walls. You should see the place, it's like, amazing. It's all over colors." He shrugged. "I can't draw so good when I'm wasted. So I don't do it."

"I thought it loosened you up."

Pony chewed his lip. "Yeah, but when I look at my stuff again, when I'm sober, I don't like it. I..." He paused and didn't quite meet my eye. "I draw...water. And flames and...stuff."

Shit. Now I wanted to say something sensible, something helpful, but I had nothing. He shrugged it off with a casual:

"So, you don't gotta worry. I ain't ever likely to get into it heavy."

"Good. Was almost thinking you were turning into a flower child." I tried to lighten the mood and sent a playful slug into his shoulder and he leaped, landing on top of me with a cry of,

"Greaser for life an' don't you forget it!"

Jeez, but he was heavy. I wouldn't go quite so far as to say he could take me, but I think we were both too tired to make much of the tussle; it wasn't long before we gave up and flopped back, laughing. He made it as far as the other bed before he crashed out.

The thing about Pony was, when he was asleep, he was _asleep_. I had a suspicion that was why his nightmares had been so bad, because he could sleep so deep in the first place. So, when I snuck out the room, he didn't stir.

The light was still on in Mom and Dad's—in _Darry_'s room. Man that was a tough change to get. Not that he'd moved in there, I was totally okay with that, and it didn't look the same or even smell the same, it was just what I thought of as the room's name.

Darry was sitting up in bed, with a book open. Hell, yes, they were like each other. "He okay?" he asked.

I nodded, pulling the door shut behind me.

"So, what gives with this girl?"

I sat on the end of the bed and shrugged. "What'd you expect? He's fifteen. She puts out. 'Course he's goin' back for more." I knew he wanted reassuring, and I was too tired to yank his chain, so I went on: "But it's all good. He _likes_ her, he doesn't love her. So he's not ditching school to run off, live in some commune. And he ain't doing any drugs over there. He says."

Darry smiled.

"Honest?" I said. "I'm kinda surprised you didn't wig out more."

He yawned, before he answered, "You want to know something? I'm not Dad. I can't be Dad. Not for every single thing. Sometimes, I just want to be his big brother."

He was making me yawn too. I held up my fist for him to bump. "_That _we got covered."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I know a few people were interested in when the alibi would be explained. If anyone expected Darry to go off the deep end...sorry. Neither he nor Soda are hypocrites! ;)**

**Josefin, only a couple of months difference - Soda will be 18 in Oct, Evie in December, then Jo in January :) **

**To the guest who asked, pretty sure all 'reads' count! For some reason there was a dip, but it's evened out again now. I just wait on updating until it looks like most readers are done :)**


	15. Chapter 15

_**January 1967**_

**Jo**

"Me too!" was my response when Soda said he had something to tell me. And I would've bet mine was more of a shock. "Audrey got engaged!" I told him how she'd been writing to a guy we knew, all through his service overseas, even though they weren't really dating before he got drafted.

And then he came home on leave, and _proposed_.

"He re-upped though, said he's making a career of the Air Force, so Mom's in a state of shock. I mean, _Audrey_, who never even liked to go on sleepovers, she'll be living who knows where!"

Soda took it all in. "Wow."

"I know! An' they wanna get married in April, 'cause Cole will get some chunk of leave, or something, so there's everything to arrange real quick, an' Audrey already picked out my bridesmaid dress apparently, so that'd better be hip or I'm gonna...What? What's your news?" I could see he was itching to tell me.

"Steve's got a baby."

"_What_? Do you mean Evie's...?" I put my hand over my mouth. Maybe Soda won, for the most shocking news after all.

"Nope. It's a real live baby. Already here. Already at Steve's house, right now. That's why I was late."

I was glad we weren't in my aunt's front room. We'd been dating long enough that we got to sit in and watch TV if we had nowhere to go—I believe I'd heard Uncle Jim use the word 'courting'—and Aunt Em usually found chores to do elsewhere, to give us some privacy, but this was not a conversation I would have wanted her to overhear.

Because it was late, and too cold to drive out, we'd settled for going somewhere for hot chocolate and I was pleased when the diner Soda chose was pretty empty. I stared at him now, as he told me how the baby had turned up.

"But...you mean Steve..._went_ with someone else?"

He smirked. "That is how babies get made."

"But...Evie? What did Evie say? That's awful!"

"She was cool. It happened when they weren't together."

I wasn't all fired impressed with Soda's easy justification of Steve's behavior. "So, if we stopped dating, you'd go right out and sleep with some random girl, just like that? That's okay, is it?"

"Naw" Soda's smile quickly fell when he realized I was serious. "_No._ Why would you...? That's not the same thing. I would never..._I love you_." I could see him thinking, _Why am I in trouble, for something Steve did?_ plain as day. But all I could think about was Evie, and how horrible this must be for her.

xxXxx

I was curious to see the guys with this 'suddenly appeared' baby. My brothers sure had been fun to watch, when my nephew and niece were born, because they were all so obviously clueless; Pete was interested but nervous, while Gary was just plain confused by Mikey and Dawn, at least when they were tiny. I guess Sam wasn't much better at first, but he had no choice to get on and work out how to be a dad. 'Uncle Gary' meanwhile, was happy to ignore them until they were up on their feet and talking some. He could deal, then.

Steve's baby was definitely not walking and talking. Soda knew how old it was—five months almost exactly—because he knew when it had been born, he told me confidently. Apparently the baby's mother had dumped it on Steve at the DX, along with its birth certificate as 'proof', although Steve wasn't denying paternity anyhow. And, to be honest, the second I saw it, I agreed with everyone else; that baby _really_ looked like Steve.

Soda's friend, the tough guy, transformed into the new father. Well now, it took me a little while to figure out that the unusual expression in Steve's eyes was _'scared shitless but hiding it well'_, as his mom went on about approved routines and responsibility. And boy, did she go on. I'd seen my own mom, and Paula's, in action when the babies came and I figured Steve's mom was packing in five months of advice to one visit. Fourteen months' worth, if you factored in the missing pregnancy.

Soda was already on edge around Mrs. Stewart, I knew. He felt like he'd been unforgivably rude, at Steve's birthday party, even though he was completely and utterly justified, in my opinion, when he stood up to that horrible friend of theirs. But, for Soda, the idea that he might have made things worse for Steve's relationship with his mom was a huge deal.

It seemed to me that she was perfectly fine with him, polite and everything, like the fancy lady she was. Or at least, she was _now_. She sure picked her second husband to be different from Steve's dad. I still watched carefully, when Pony showed up, to make sure they were nice to him too. He had some kind of fan thing going on, over some book that Steve's step dad wrote, years back. I never met anyone that wrote a book before. Don't think I ever met a college professor, for that matter. But Ponyboy, once he got his tongue untied, had all kinds of smart stuff to talk about. The baby wasn't so fascinating to him, I don't think he went near it at all.

Mom said, when Mikey was born, that we had to be kind to Chris, because he'd lost his place as the 'baby' of the family, for all he was ten years old. She claimed that I acted out something terrible, when Chris came along, which I don't remember. But I don't think that was Ponyboy's problem, I don't imagine many guys his age are interested in babies.

The others were a different matter, they were _real_ interested, in playing at least—in fact, Steve's mom called them out, for not taking things serious with the baby and you never saw so many tough guys jump to attention so quick. That wasn't fair to Soda; he was just fascinated is all, he thought everything the baby did was hilarious, even if he just waved his little foot. I thought he was great with him and told Steve's mom— _in my head_—to take a hike. I could kind of see her point, as far as Two-Bit went. He was like a kid himself—one with a new toy at that. I could imagine him toting around a baby quite happily, even in the most inappropriate circumstances; bouncing it on his knee at the drive-in, pointing out the hoods at The Dingo like he was on a visit to the zoo.

So, maybe Soda and Two-Bit were having a gas, playing with the baby, but she was wrong as well about Steve not taking it serious. When Soda thrust the baby at Steve and called him 'Daddy', there was a complete change in Steve's body language. I had once seen him step up to a guy who'd scraped his jacket zipper against the side mirror on the Chevy. That's how I recognized that fierce protective look he got on him.

And in the middle of all of it, there was Evie. I couldn't begin to get my head around how it must be for her, to be looking after Steve's child. The child he had with someone else. I felt sorry for her and not just because she had no more idea what she was doing than Steve himself. I knew she'd been hanging out to live with Steve, since he had the house to himself, but it hardly seemed fair that it might happen now just so she could look after his illegitimate baby for him.

I made a promise to call her soon and then we left them to it. Two-Bit offered to give Soda a ride home, along with Pony, but Soda said he'd ride with me.

"You know this is crazy still?" I teased, as we sat outside Aunt Emma's place. "You'll freeze on the walk home. Why don'tcha let me drop you first?"

"Nope." Soda leaned in for another kiss. "Warm me up now, I'll make it last." He was only being half-serious, he would never get into anything heavy, not right in front of my house.

"You said you were going to explain, about the baby's name," I reminded him. He admitted that although they all thought that 'John Lennon' was an abomination of a name to give a baby, it was the fact that it reminded them of their friend Johnny that was harder to handle. 'Jay' seemed to be sticking as an alternative.

"So, that rules out any of our kids being called 'John', does it?" I teased him gently.

"Shoot, that wasn't your dad's name, was it?"

"Naw, 'Michael', I told ya. That's why Sam's got Mikey."

"Oh. Yeah. I knew that." He grinned. "'Elvis' it is then."

I pulled back before he could kiss me again, staring at him in horror. "_Elvis Curtis_? You have to be kidding me."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I hope we have girls, is how much is wrong with that."

He pretended to consider for a second or two. "_Raquel_-_Ann-Margret_ Curtis. That's tuff enough." I slapped him on the shoulder, but he just laughed. "Baby. C'mon. Remember who you're talking to. There ain't no name that's gonna sound outlandish to me, is there? How about I let you do the choosing, with one exception?" He pulled me into a cuddle, resting his head on mine. "Can we have a 'Karen', if we have a girl before Darry or Pony get around to it?"

I told him sure. No problem. Our first daughter would have his mom's name, no argument from me.

xxXxx

Evie yawned as she climbed in the Rambler. I figured that the baby had kept her awake the previous night but she shook her head and said he'd slept pretty good.

"But that meant Steve kept getting up, to see _why_ he wasn't awake." She used her compact to check her make up after she'd rubbed her eyes. "Thanks for the lift, you're saving me a chunk of time." For these two weeks, while they had the baby with them, I was picking her up after work to take her to her mom's, where Jay stayed in the afternoons. She and Steve were splitting the working day; her taking mornings, him the late shift, to cover the babysitting. But there was still a gap between him leaving for the DX and her finishing up.

I told her, no problem. And I asked her, how she was doing. She knew what I was getting at.

"Jeez, I feel like I haven't had a proper conversation with Steve in days, what with him working lates."

"Did you have a conversation at all? About all this?"

Evie shrugged. "It is what it is, Jo. I can't change the fact that Jay is here. What should I do, break up with Steve because he slept with someone else over a year ago?" She tilted her head to look at me, sideways. "I did too."

I was concentrating on an intersection right then. I'm not sure I would have said what I truly thought anyway. Which was, that I didn't believe she was _that_ okay with this. I was pretty sure it would be causing problems, maybe sooner than she and Steve thought.

"You know what the coolest thing is?" Evie made an effort to lighten the mood. "I can't get over how the guys are with Jay. 'Uncle Soda', huh? I think he'd keep that kid for himself if we gave him the chance."

That, I agreed with. When we'd taken a turn babysitting, I'd barely had to do anything. Soda was besotted. Of course, Jay was a pretty good kid. I had to wonder if any of them would cope, if he was sickly, or one of those babies who screamed night and day. Playing was the easy part.

Usually Evie walked the baby carriage from her mom's, when she picked up Jay, but she was tired enough to let me drive them back to Steve's. I made a pot of coffee for her, while she got the baby settled. The house was kind of messy, so I picked up in the front room and ran some water over the dirty dishes I collected.

"You don't haveta..." the rest of her protest was lost in a yawn. I waved her quiet and finished the dishes.

While we sat with the coffee, Evie told me Steve was seeing a lawyer, to make his place in Jay's life official. "I didn't know he'd be like this. But with Eddie gone, I guess it's something he can focus on."

I wondered if the world was trying to balance something there. Offering Steve a new family just after he lost his dad. I wondered what would happen when Jay's mother reappeared and took him away again.

It turned out to be _three_ weeks before the girl in question showed up. I knew Paula got antsy when one of her kids was at our house just for the night. I don't think she could ever have left one of them for the best part of a month, not when they were so small.

When the girl came by Soda's house and demanded the baby, I saw Evie step in, to keep everyone calm. And I mean everyone, not just Steve. It was so unfair, we'd been so happy, chilling while we listened to the new album. Soda couldn't even make himself say goodbye to Jay. I turned around and he was gone.

I found him on the back steps and dropped down to sit next to him. He must have raided Pony's pack, on his way through the kitchen. I reached out and took the cigarette out of his fingers, stubbing it on the concrete. I knew he was upset, but I really didn't like the taste. I took his hand in mine, knowing that what he needed was something to focus on.

"You know Steve's lawyer said he had to let Jay go, if she came back for him. He has to do it all by the book," I reminded him gently.

He shrugged.

"If the lawyer gets Steve acknowledged by the court, he can have Jay for real. She can't stop it then."

Soda shrugged again.

"You wanna tell me who that mouthy little bitch was?" I changed subject, to get his mood turned around. The baby's mother hadn't been alone and her companion had flirted with both Pony and Soda, right in front of me.

Soda snorted. "That was Angela. _Shepard_."

"Related to that kid we saw, passed out at The Dingo? And the other one?" We didn't eat at The Dingo too often, but for some reason we were there this one time and we'd seen a couple of young guys who were completely wasted. I remembered Soda telling me one was Somebody Shepard, younger brother of the infamous Tim. We left right after the kid puked and collapsed in the dirt.

"Yup."

"She's some kind of lady, huh?"

He smiled, despite himself. "Not so's anyone would notice."

"Did I hear Pony right? She's married?"

"Was. I heard she went home again." He pulled a face. "Remember when Pony got in that fight at that dance? At the school dance? That was something to do with her. She's bad news."

She sounded it. What kind of girl talked, even jokingly, about having a baby with a guy when she didn't know him that well? _In front of his girlfriend. _

"Shoot. Did he take his giraffe? Did she take Jay, without his stuff?" Soda went to get up. I told him Jay had the giraffe toy that we'd bought him, I'd made sure of it. I'd thought Soda had seen me hand it over, but maybe he was gone by then. I hugged him and he leaned against me. "Man, this blows," he sighed. "It's so unfair to Steve."

Yeah.

xxXxx

"Ain't that Sodapop?" Lynette's desk was on the other side of the office to mine and she had more of a view of the parking lot. She was using her pencil to point behind me. I stood up and peered out of the window.

It was him. Which was weird, because it was only a quarter after nine and I hadn't been at work for long. I assumed he'd come from the DX, he was in his uniform shirt, but we hadn't made a date, not even for lunch. Work at the garage was too unpredictable usually, for him to have a regular break. All of this went through my head as I waved at him to come on up to the office but he beckoned me down. Lynette shooed me, even though she'd answered the phone by then.

I didn't recognize the car that Soda was leaning on. "Are you on a test run or something?" I asked. He shrugged and I realized something was wrong. Jay had been gone a week and missing the baby was high on every conversation that we had, but this—calling by at my work—was way out of the ordinary.

"S'posed to be," he finally choked out. "Put a new oil filter...needs checking...guy said it's making a noise...it's always 'a noise' with these idiots..."

"What's the matter?" I interrupted because I couldn't bear the way he was desperately talking about random nonsense. "Soda, baby, what's wrong?"

He scuffed the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. "So, Steve came into work this morning. Wasn't his shift, but he hadda see Mike. Hadda give him notice."

_What?_ Steve was leaving the DX? Soda seemed to be having trouble catching his breath.

"Uh, two weeks, see. That's what they give you. Two weeks to settle everything, before you gotta go get the medical an'—"

"_Shit_!" I didn't often cuss out loud and certainly not ever at work. My hands were shaking as I covered my mouth. "Oh. Oh, God. Oh, Soda. _Soda_..." I threw my arms around him.

"Yeah." He swallowed hard.

"But, when? I saw Evie just yesterday. Last night. When did he find out?"

"Yesterday. Last night," he repeated dully. "Steve got home to find the letter last night. He's gotta go to the MEPS. Oklahoma City. Two weeks. Fort Sill after that." There were no tears. There was almost no emotion in his voice. That frightened me, more than if he'd been weeping and wailing. I physically couldn't form the words that started whirling around my brain, in case putting them out there made the idea real, made it real to Soda.

_Don't you join him. Don't you 'up', just to be with Steve. Don't you dare._

* * *

**A/N: Ahem, if it's not too pushy, and you didn't read my Evie stories, we just overlapped 'Love Me Two Times' and chapter two of that will explain the surprise appearance of the baby quite nicely (Soda was there, if that appeals...) **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: SodapopGirl17, if you're reading, this is a changed up version of what you saw back in the day, so you still have that exclusive. :) I just felt like a rewrite!**

* * *

**Soda**

_He stared at me hard across the lunch table and sniffed, wiping the back of his cuff under his nose. "How come they call you Sodapop?"_

_"'S'my name."_

_"How come you got kept in at recess?"_

_I shrugged, concentrating on finishing my PBandJ. "I guess I hadda redo the Math sheet."_

_"How come?" The dark haired boy was done with his sandwich already. He didn't seem to have anything else. I was looking forward to my cookie. Mom had put in raisins __and __chocolate chips, especially for me, seeing as first grade was real big boys' school, like Darry. I knew it was true, when I thought about that Math sheet._

_"I guess I got too many problems wrong."_

_The kid scoffed a little. "They was easy." _

_I'd seen him, pencil scratching away, tongue poking out the side of his mouth. He was done before just about everyone else. I shrugged. He wiped his nose again._

_"If you sit by me, I can show you my paper." _

_I smiled. "Okay." _

_"Are you gonna eat all that cookie?"_

"Curtis!"

I jumped, like Steve's yell had woken me up. "Huh?"

"I said, you gonna eat all that pizza?"

I handed over the box. Jo squeezed my hand and I refocused on the room, on the whole bunch of us, in Steve's front room. Music, at least three conversations going on, beer and pizza. Could've been just another night. Could've been.

"Hey!" I scooted forward, grabbing Evie's wrist as she went past and pulling her onto my lap. "I never got up close and personal with a married woman before."

_"Liar!" _ Two-Bit, Steve _and_ my snake of a big brother all chorused. Pony's eyes bulged. But they all started laughing, including Evie, who slapped me upside the head and escaped.

Jo was giving me a comedy look of indignation, with her arms folded.

"Honey..." I started, in a carefully innocent tone, which sent them all off into laughter again. I pulled Jo onto my lap instead and forced myself to relax against the back of the couch. Only, Steve did that thing again, that rub of the head, his hair. Oh, shit. His hair.

_"No, no, no!" Dad was cracked up, doing an impression of Steve holding onto his bangs with both hands when Mom had tried to get near him with the scissors. He'd made the mistake of coming over earlier, when she was giving us all haircuts, but he didn't hang around for long._

_Mom frowned. "Darrel, it isn't funny for a little boy to be so angry. And his father shouldn't let him run around on his own like that." She sighed. "That kid needs a hug so bad."_

_"You can hug him, Mama," I volunteered, hopping into the kitchen. I was a lousy eavesdropper. "Steve's mommy went away." _

_She bent down and hugged me. "I know she did, honey. And you're a good friend to think of that. But we'll leave it up to Steve, okay?"_

_She never did get to cut Steve's hair. But he turned out to be the first of us to pay real close attention in that area, a few years later. He was greasing it from the day Two-Bit showed him how to lift his first can of Dixie Peach and he had the duck tail going long before me or Johnny got good at any of that. I couldn't be bothered after a while, combing it back was enough effort for me, but Steve...Boy, once he got his hair just so, the easiest way to rile him was to lift his comb out his pocket and toss it. _

And now, fuck, but his head looks weird. I have to stop myself keep touching my own hair, to make sure it's there. I swear I nearly puked when he climbed out the Chevy and I saw what he'd done. Had Evie's sister cut it all off. Army regulation style.

That makes it real. He's going away.

When he came into work, to tell Mike that he had to give notice, I knew he wasn't kidding around. Not for one second did I think he was anything but serious, because he looked like someone had sucker punched him, and hard. If he'd have handed me the keys to the Chevy at that moment, I'd have driven him to Canada without a backward glance. And later, at our place, when Two-Bit pointed out that uppers could make it seem like he had a heart problem, I'd have raided my jar and headed over to the Kings' turf to get him whatever he wanted. I'd have given him my lighter, if he'd agreed with Pony's anti-war arguments and burned his draft letter.

But what I did, in the end, was to listen to Steve.

_"All the guys who already went, it'd be like spitting on them... What makes me different? What makes me better, that I shouldn't go when they had to?"_

It hurt, to hear it. It made me sick to my stomach. And it frightened the hell out of me. Because I agreed with him. I wasn't just thinking about Andy Reed, who I only knew vaguely from hanging with Tommy at school, or Sylvia's kid brother who I didn't really know at all, or even any of the other neighborhood guys who got their pictures in the paper to go along with a shiny new headstone.

I was thinking about my dad, in that photo, demobbed and coming home to Mom and Darry. And Steve's dad—and that guy at his funeral, who had all the stories about when he and Eddie served together in Europe. Yeah, that was a different war, which seemed to make a difference for Pony and his new political views, but it didn't for me.

I knew that Pony saw it, in me. Even that first night, when we first found out about Steve, Pony knew what I was thinking. But when he came in my room and found me bawling he didn't give me any of his 'rational' arguments, he just said: _"If you go, ain't no guarantee you'll end up in the same unit. You know that, right?"_ And he made me answer too, like he was the goddamn big brother. I guess I did know that. The Army is just too freaking big to assume we would be together and I would need Steve, most likely, just the way I needed him all through school.

Shit.

How come it feels like yesterday we were goofing off in class—any class, pick a class—and now he's married, he has a kid and he's going in the freaking Army?

Steve, who was _never _getting married, _never_ having kids, all the time we were growing up...

_It had gotten so we couldn't see to throw the ball around any longer, but he didn't start home like he usually did. 'Home by dark' was my curfew, he knew, unless Darry was with us and then Mom might stretch it some. But she also might march down to the lot and haul me back, which I wanted to avoid. I couldn't see why being sixteen made Darry so much more trustworthy than me, but I wasn't about to argue the point with Mom. Maybe when I caught up to Steve again, got a '-teen' at the end of my age, I could make a better argument._

_"I gotta go in," I said. _

_Steve shrugged. "'Kay." _

_I hovered though. He'd been antsy all night. _

_"I probably ain't gonna go home," he finally said, like it was no big deal._

_It kind of was. But all I could articulate was, "Why?"_

_He shrugged, hands shoved into his pockets in a good impression of casual. "Nothin'...my old man said not to, y'know."_

_Wow. I knew Steve's dad could be kind of tough on him, but that was outside anything I could get my head around. "Why?" I blurted again. "What'd you do?"_

_"Nothin'. Only he said I can't go home."_

_"Ever?"_

_His eyes flickered, fear dancing behind his bravado. "Nah. Just tonight. I think."_

_Still 'Wow'. _

_"Like I wanna be there, anyway." Steve kicked a small rock across the grass. "Like I wanna watch him drink himself senseless."_

_"You can sleep at our house." It seemed obvious to me. Steve's expression hovered between hope and wariness, but he followed me, that was the important thing. As we went past Johnny's house, the yelling was punctuated by a door slamming hard enough to make the wall shake. _

_"I don't get it," Steve muttered, scuffing his sneakers on the edge of the curb as we walked."I don't get why people bother. I ain't never gettin' married."_

_A whole lot of things went through my head, but there wasn't a one I could say out loud, not even to Steve. Maybe especially not to Steve. _

_When we got home, I pretended to go to the bathroom and I told Dad what Steve had said about not being allowed to go home. Dad's face went awful still for a second, then he ruffled my hair and told me he'd square it with Mom for an unscheduled sleep over. He played cards with me and Steve and showed us how to hide an ace in your cuff, so you could win every time. _

I heard that claim from Steve so many times–he was never getting married. And I got to understand that it wasn't even just the result of all the crap that Eddie filled his head with, about how untrustworthy women were. How they'd up and leave you. Sure, Steve had the example of his own mom for that. But I watched him watch everyone else's families too; Two-Bit's mom, barely keeping their heads above water, Johnny's folks like two ants in a jar. Dallas, living like he was his own particular take on 'Wild Kingdom'. The North side was never exactly Ozzie and Harriet territory.

Oh, I know Steve watched Mom and Dad too. I even remember him being around when Mom was mad about something, or Dad was tired and snapped at her, or us, so it wasn't like they were saints to him, or nothin'. But I know he loved them. He never said it, would never say it, and I wouldn't expect him to. But he never changed his tune either. Always agreed with Dallas when it came to discussing chicks, and Dallas was definitely of the '_love 'em and leave 'em' _camp, even if '_love_' wasn't his verb of choice.

And yet. Steve is married. I was there. Hell, I fixed it.

I'd like to think it was my natural—and, okay, also well practised—charm that convinced the judge this afternoon. But I've got a sneaking suspicion that I was coming across as desperate as I felt. The courthouse was supposed to be closing, I could see Evie was on the edge of tears in the waiting room. I ducked inside the courtroom and called out as I hurried forwards:

_"Sir? I need to explain something to you. My friend got drafted—" I held up my hand as I advanced on the old guy. He'd started to object and I thought I knew why. "No, wait. He's going, this ain't about dodging anything. Only he wants to get married before he goes, an' he's gotta go tomorrow. It's, like, now or never, for them. Steve and Evie. My friends. Please. Don't shut up shop yet, please, sir?"_

_He sat back down. "Go on, son."_

_Go on? Hadn't I just laid it all out?_

_"Well, see..." I swallowed. "Steve never had no one to love before her. An' she...something bad happened to Evie an' he stuck by her and together they're...good for each other, y'dig? That won't change, on account of some piece of paper, but he's going away tomorrow and they want to be married and—Aw, hell, please?" Yeah, maybe the charm ran out at that point._

_The old guy looked at his watch and then the clock on the courtroom wall._

_"Well. I believe this clock may be running fast. Shall we see what we can do?"_

And they did it. He did it, the old guy, he lied about the time and married them. Steve's married. And he has a kid. I hadn't told the judge that part. Figured it might muddy the waters some, although I know that's why Steve's lawyer told 'em to do it. Make Steve look 'respectable', so he gets custody of Jay. Maybe even get him out of going to Vietnam. Christ, I hope so.

It ain't like I was lying about the rest; they _are_ good for each other and when Steve's been the happiest he's ever been in his life, it's always been because of Evie. I don't think he knows I know that. I think he would try to snow even me, he'd say that winning that drag race out at Catoosa, or the time he knocked out that Brumley kid with one single punch, was his best moment. But I know.

I knew right away. Maybe even before he did. That day in the workshop, I knew.

_"So, what gives? Sandy said you went out with Evie again?"_

_"So?" Steve gave me his usual 'I don't talk about shit like this' scowl. _

_I took the wrench he was handing up and stowed it in the tool chest. "So, I thought we was gonna double?"_

_"So? Don't mean I can't see her in between."_

_"You like her, huh?"_

_"Her? She's got a mouth on her." _

_Yeah._

_"Like, I mean, she ain't exactly shy." _

_Yeah. _

_"I guess she's cute enough." _

_You like her._

I watched him, as the night wore on. Watched how he ran his hand over Evie's arm, even if he was talking to Darry. How he smiled at Two-Bit's stupid stories, but his attention was really on her. Only on her.

I thought about the day we found out that Ricky had been responsible for attacking Evie. I knew Jo had a hard time forgiving Steve, for how crazy angry he got, how out of control, when he hit Darry and me. What nobody else knew was that, after everything calmed down, late that night, he came back. Tapped on my window and climbed in, said he'd been walking the streets since it got dark.

_He'd called Evie, at her boss's place, where she was holed up. Marian had told him he could go by in the morning. _

_"What am I gonna say to her, man?" his voice was hoarse and he slid down to the floor, leaning on the bed frame. It wasn't cold out, but he was shivering. He drew his knees up and buried his face in his arms, so I had to sit forwards to catch his next words. "He did it. He said he was gonna get to her and he did it. No way that bastard was happy just smacking her around. What am I gonna say to her?"_

_I thought about what Jo had said, to me and Pony. That maybe Evie just wanted it forgotten. But before I could offer any advice, I realized that Steve wasn't cold. That wasn't why he was shaking. _

_I slid down from my bed, to sit across from him. _

_I waited for him to finish crying._

_"Honest, Steve?" I said, quietly. "I think you just gotta tell her you love her."_

I don't want him to go.

I don't want him to go.

I don't want him to go.

I needed to do something, get past the goodbyes and the drumming of that sentence in my brain. I needed to stop snivelling and do something positive. Something like Pony was talking about, writing to politicians, marching with banners, stopping a war.

What I actually did was so unexpected, I didn't even get my head around it, barely even realized that I'd done it, until I was half a block away and walking fast.

Darry had drunk the least of all of us, so he took us in the truck part-way, before heading to Lynette's, and I walked Jo home. She was sweet and kind and supportive and said all the right things: Steve would be okay. Steve was smart. He would do his time and come home. He would probably not even have to go overseas, if the lawyer was right and could make out like he now had a kid depending on him.

Jo made a lot of sense.

But I was still stressing as we stood on her aunt's porch saying goodnight, and I still pulled out the weeds I'd stuck in my jacket pocket 'just in case'. More to fiddle with the pack, than anything.

"Don't, baby. It won't make you feel better and it's bad for you," said Jo, gently. Sweetly. Kindly.

And what did I say? What did I do?

"For Christ's sake!" I snapped, tearing my arm away from her. "If I want a fucking cigarette, I will have a fucking cigarette! Stop tryin' to run my goddamn life!"

And I left her there.

More than half a block. I couldn't even see Jo's place by the time I came to my senses. I actually tripped, as I looked over my shoulder to test that theory.

A pick up eased to a stop next to me. A red Ford that ran like new. Damn. _Damndamndamn_.

I could feel myself start shaking with anger, frustration and I don't know what, as Jo's uncle climbed down and walked around to me.

"We got a problem here, son?" he asked, mildly enough.

"No, sir." I studied the sidewalk, off to one side.

He raised his eyebrows, looking me over. "Sure sounded like something of a problem, the language I just heard, out on my front stoop. Not to mention the fact that I ain't seen Joanne cry since she was a little girl and I'd just as soon keep it that way."

My eyes shot up, to see how serious he was. "I made her cry?"

"Bit late to be worrying 'bout that, now." His tone was still so level, I had a hard time working out how pissed he was with me. Maybe he was one of those guys stayed calm until he took the first swing. For a split second I wished he would, that he would land one on me, give me an excuse to swing back, for all he had thirty-odd years on me.

"Did I, or didn't I?" I challenged. "And what'd you intend to do about it, if I did?"

"What in hell bit you tonight?" was the response. "You on something?"

"No, sir." I curled my fists by my side and clenched my teeth, looking for the crack in the sidewalk again.

Mr. Hughes leaned back on his truck, rubbing his chin, as he puzzled over me. "Well, here's the thing," he said, eventually. "I ain't here because you made Joanne cry. I'm here because she asked me to come after you. Asked me to make sure you got home safe. Which—correct me, if I'm wrong—don't make a whole heap of sense if the two of you had a fight."

"We didn't," I said, still directing my words to the ground. "I'm sorry I spoke to her like that. I'll tell her so."

"What happened then?"

What could I say? _'My buddy's going away_?' What was I, a frigging twelve year old girl? I shook my head. "I apologize, sir. For my language. I'm gonna head home, but I will make it right with Jo tomorrow."

"See now, I can't let you do that."

I spun back around from where I'd set off walking. For a second I was terrified he was going to say I couldn't see Jo again, but he was holding open the door to the pick up.

"I told you. Joanne wanted me to see you got home. Get in. _Get in,_" he repeated, when I didn't move. I climbed in and sat like a sulky kid, hunched against the seat and staring out the window.

"_Sodapop_..." It wasn't a question, it was more like he was thinking aloud. "Do you know, when she first brought you into the conversation, I figured with a name like that you must be some kind of fat-head juvie." I flinched but didn't say anything, as he went on. "But you seem to have made Joanne happy so far. Done the right thing by her. " Now it seemed like he was waiting for me to join in, but now I didn't trust myself to say anything.

Mr. Hughes started the engine, but didn't set off. "Maybe you want to write this off as a bad day? I can understand—"

"The hell you can!" I blurted. "I hadda say goodbye to someone who's like a brother to me today, 'cause he's drafted, so don't you tell me to forget it as 'a bad day'."

There was a noise that might have been a laugh, only it got cut so short, I couldn't be sure. Jo's uncle blinked at me, steadily. "Son, I lost a brother at Pearl Harbor and more friends than you wanna hear about right now, so the one thing I can tell you is this: I understand."

I swallowed, embarrassed.

He shrugged. "But I came home in one piece, and so did plenty other friends of mine. Got two nephews in the Navy, getting on ten years for one of 'em. It ain't always a bad thing."

Right.

He put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb, asking me for my address when we got to the next intersection. When we pulled up at home, he looked me over again.

"You got a telephone in there?"

I nodded.

"I better find Joanne on the other end of a call, when I get home, you understand me?"

I mumbled something and slid out, making my way inside like a dog with its tail between its legs. Pony was crashing around in the bathroom—I registered that I hadn't been watching how much beer Two-Bit poured into him, at Steve's.

When he came out, wrapped in a towel, with his hair sticking up every which way, I tossed him the Kools from my pocket.

"Here," I said. "I quit."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Josefin, there are not enough cookies in the world for you! I can't believe you remembered that detail about Soda and the cigarette! Let's say he nearly lapsed because a) it's a difficult habit to break and b) he's Soda. He gets distracted when he's stressed! ;)**

* * *

**Jo**

I suppose it was romantic, in a way. And I knew it was the only option that they had, at that point. But, Lord help me, I didn't want to get married the way that Evie had.

I would never, never tell her that, of course. But a last minute rush at the courthouse smacked of nothing but 'shotgun wedding' to me. In a freaky sense it _was_ tied in to Steve's baby, just not in the time-honored fashion that such things usually were. What a way to prove you love a guy, getting married to make him a more respectable father to a kid who wasn't yours. I thought Evie deserved a medal, or a freaking sainthood.

Weddings were the topic of the moment, no doubt about that, every time I called home. Listening to Audrey ramble on, about flowers and cake and what length her veil should be, I was caught between wanting to shake her until she shut up and agreeing with her wholeheartedly; call me shallow, but those things were important to me too. And don't even get me started on the dress. I was almost as sorry for Evie about the fact that she got married in capris—_capris_, for Heaven's sake—as I was about the fact that Steve was gone away in the Army.

Evie could insist all she liked that she didn't care, that she'd never had a dream wedding planned in her head, but I still thought it sucked.

At least when it came to homemaking, Evie seemed keen, and it was fun to talk about ideas with her. Although I worried that she would think I was square, if she found out I had a few things put by already_—_that wasn't a sign of me being crazy obsessed with getting married, that was mostly down to my grandma. I was barely fifteen when she started giving me things for my 'hope chest'. Back then I humoured her, but I kept the tablecloths and pillowcases because they'd belonged to her, or some of them, to her mom. I mean, my great grandma grew up in a little frontier homestead with no electricity and a pump in the yard. Thinking about her embroidering those linens by candlelight made me treasure them, even if I couldn't imagine actually using them. Family history, those kind of roots, all that stuff was important to me. Mom had a quilt that went back another generation again, and that was a huge issue between me and Audrey, as to which one of us would inherit it.

Despite the fact that Steve was gone to Basic training, Evie moved into his house right away and started making it her own. She insisted that it was her house too, for all they had only one night of married life together. So far. I had to keep reminding myself to be upbeat.

Steve's dad had been kind of a neat freak and had kept everything exactly the same all the time Steve was growing up, apparently, but Evie was determined to get the place up to date. I helped. As a late wedding present, I bought her pillows for the couch, in groovy patterns and colours, although I thought she needed an afghan too, to hide the awful old thing completely. Plus I was planning on shopping with her for dishes that actually matched. And everyone lent a hand painting the walls and moving furniture and stuff like that. Whatever Evie wanted. It seemed to be their way of keeping close to Steve.

At first, I was worried, I admit. I watched Soda carefully, because he was all kinds of twitchy about going to the house without Steve being around. Missing him was almost a physical thing for Soda, but at least he seemed to have got over his tantrum phase, as far as taking out his mood on me. It hurt at the time, when he raised his voice to me, and I wished that Uncle Jim hadn't overhead the language that Soda used, but I forgave him right away. I knew how bad he was feeling. Hadn't he been fighting back tears, when he had to say goodbye to Steve?

Now it seemed like he used up his energy on missing Steve at work; he had plenty to say about how lousy the new guy at the DX was. You'd think Roy came from some place that didn't have cars at all, to hear the way Soda complained. Poor Roy didn't work as fast as Steve, he didn't work as well as Steve and, apparently he didn't keep the tools as tidy as Steve, which was funny, in a sad way, because that was something Steve himself had moaned about when it came to Soda.

I tried to help by taking Soda with me a couple of times, back to the farm, when I went for dress fittings and the like. I figured getting him away from all the places Steve _wasn't_ would be a break for him. Good thing I didn't plan it as a romantic deal; the first time it felt like we only saw each other in the car, because my brothers swooped on Soda the second we arrived and took him out as an extra hand. I didn't see them again until it was dark, and then Gary insisted that Soda go into town with him and his buddies.

We did some talking though, on those trips. On the way there, I warned him that Audrey would be yakking non stop about her wedding.

"You might have to hold me back," I said. "If she makes one more 'suggestion' that I get my hair cut, to match hers."

Soda laughed. Then looked sideways at me, with a slight frown. "You ain't gonna? Cut your hair, on her say so?"

"Nah. Comes a limit, even for what the bride wants." I liked that he liked my hair long. "She can pick my dress and shoes, but she can't change what goes in 'em! And I guess I'll get my revenge one day, make her wear something gross to my wedding."

He smiled. I liked to watch him drive, on long routes like this, I liked the way he lounged with his elbow on the open window, fingers tapping along to whatever was on the radio.

Since we were on the subject of weddings and I'd been holding my opinion inside for long enough—_and just in case he ever took it into his head to surprise me_—I told Soda outright that I would never want to get married like Steve and Evie and he shocked me by agreeing.

He looked surprised that I was surprised. "I want it to be however you want, honey," he said, like that should have been obvious. "Long as you give me time to save up." I laughed and told him Mom and Martin would pay for the wedding, that was down to the bride's family. This seemed like news to him. In fact as I thought about all that I'd been chattering on about Audrey's plans, all the 'rules' and traditions like speeches and 'who sat where in church' seemed like news to him.

"Have you never even been to a wedding?" I teased, then was shocked all over again when he said no.

"Only Steve 'n Evie's," he confessed.

My entire childhood had been peppered with 'significant' birthday parties, great uncles' funerals, any kind of reason for a family get together, but cousins' weddings seemed about the most frequent to me. I'd been a flower girl three times by the time I was eight. Sometimes it still took me aback, how small Soda's family was.

I realised that if we did the whole 'church' thing, my side would be full to bursting and Soda would have…hardly anyone. If he had a best man, plus as many groomsmen as Audrey's Cole was planning, it was possible there'd be no one but Evie left to sit on his side of the aisle. That made me kind of sad.

Actually, it wasn't exactly true, that Soda and his brothers had no living relatives. Their dad had grown up in various boys' homes—which fact made a lot of things clear to me, regarding the horror they had of those places. I guess they heard some bad stories. So he was likely an orphan, but he might have had cousins, distant relatives, maybe there were other people with Curtis blood out there, somewhere. On their mom's side, they _must_ have had folks. But running away to marry a penniless G.I. against her parents' wishes had caused some kind of falling out with them that had never been healed. The only person who had stuck by her was her grandma, and she died when Soda was about eleven, he'd told me. He remembered visiting her, but they hadn't gone to the funeral, because of the rift. None of the brothers had met anyone else related to their mom. They weren't even sure where she'd grown up.

All of which explained the tight little family unit they had been, when their folks were alive, and still were now it was just the three of them, I could see that. And apart from what Soda himself often talked about, I'd also heard comments from Two-Bit and Steve that made Soda's parents sound like a great couple. What I wasn't expecting was that—once we got to talking seriously about weddings and living arrangements and he blurted out a few things—Soda didn't actually want to replicate his parents' marriage. At least, not down to the last detail.

"You know I'd marry you tomorrow, right?" he checked, going on quickly, "but you dig why we can't?" He took a deep breath. "I mean, if Steve didn't have that house, if Eddie hadn't paid it off with his insurance, him an' Evie wouldn't have it for themselves, would they? An' if we got married now, we wouldn't afford anywhere worth living…"

"I could move in with you lot," I teased, not even half serious, but he blanched.

"No! No way. I love you, Jo, but I ain't having us live with Darry and Pony. No way." Soda blew out a slow breath and I got the idea that this was the first time he was saying this out loud. "I want to do things right. And we need dough for that. Savings."

"We make good money, between us," I objected.

"Sure we do, for what we use it for, for movies and popcorn. But I've seen Darry going over the bills, I know what it takes to run a house, a _house_, y'dig? I ain't moving to no shitty apartment with you. I need to be making enough on my own, anyway, 'cause when we have kids you won't be working." Okay, he had a point there. "I want to be out in front, don't wanna be always down to the last cent come the end of the month. Don't want you putting your wedding ring in hock, so our kids can have Christmas gifts—"

I interrupted, "What?"

Soda chewed his lip. "Don't tell Darry I know, okay. Mom 'lost' her ring right around Christmas, more'n once, then miraculously found it when Dad got paid in January."

Oh. I was slightly embarrassed for him, because he obviously was himself.

"I loved my mom and dad and they loved us. But I just want…" he trailed off and shook his head at himself, then laughed sheepishly. "I just want our kids to have a _new _bike. Each."

"Baby, 'stuff' like that don't matter," I told him, honestly believing myself.

"Easy to say when you have it!"

"C'mon, Soda, there's six kids in my family, you think I never had to wear my sister's old gear? Hell, I used to wear the boys' jeans to do my chores. Ask Chris about that! Some stuff went through all five of us before it got to him." Not much, admittedly, and not Sunday best clothes. I suddenly remembered that Soda had been annoyed when they couldn't come up with two full dress suits for Eddie's funeral, because Pony had caught up to him in size but Soda hadn't gone ahead, so there was no 'hand me down' available.

He shook his head, more forcefully this time, dismissing my comments anyway. "I mean it, honey. I ain't doing it, unless we do it right. Nice house, nice things in it."

"And this'll all happen how?" I was feeling kind of boxed in and I didn't know why.

Soda shrugged. "I was thinking, maybe I oughta look into a job at one of the refineries."

"Soda!" Those places paid well for a reason; the work was nasty, downright dangerous at times. Besides... "You'd hate that."

"I could do it. Just for a while. Just to get us set up. Get us a nest egg."

I shook my head. "I don't want you working out there."

"Somehow then. I ain't kidding."

"And what if we never save 'enough'? What then? We never get married?"

I waited a long, long minute as Sodapop Curtis looked out the windscreen with uncharacteristic concentration. I could see him thinking. He took a deep breath.

"We're only eighteen. We can afford a little time, can't we? I figure we could save a lot in two, three, years. Get married when we're twenty one and have everything set, the way we want it."

I thought about Evie and her outdated furniture and mismatched china. I thought past the white dress and the flowers, realised I'd spent too long imagining one damn day when I could have been, should have been, planning my whole life. I nodded at the guy I wanted to spend that life with, the guy who was so concerned that I have everything just right, who wanted to make it just right. For me.

"Yeah," I said. "I think you got it down, baby. Let's do it that way."


	18. Chapter 18

**Soda**

The diner was no great shakes, but it was a long drive back from Fort Sill, both of us needed to pee and Evie let me know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't hopping into any ditch at the side of the road.

Forty eight hours. How can anyone be _given_ forty eight hours? The fucking Army took Steve's normal life away from him and now they were giving it back, two fucking days at a time?

It seemed to me like that was as pointless as the stupid uniform and the stupid hair cut and the stupid 'running around with a gun, getting ready to shoot people in the fucking jungle.'

I was so angry inside that anything I tried to say got tangled up, worse than usual. Bad enough the first time, saying goodbye to Steve. Nothing I'd ever come up with, all those times I lay awake thinking about Mom and Dad, thinking about what I oughta have said that last time, none of those things fit. None of them made any sense anyway, because if I knew it was the last time I was gonna see them, what I would've said was, of course, _'Don't get in the fucking car!'_ and then Mom would've grounded me for cussing and Dad would've slapped me a good one on the ear and they'd have gone anyway.

So the last thing I said to them was something stupid. And the last thing I said to Johnny was something about football, I think, because I didn't believe he wouldn't be coming home from the hospital and so I didn't visit him and see him one last time. And although I did see Dallas one last time, whatever I said in that moment wasn't something he heard and wasn't something I could let myself remember.

And now I'd said goodbye to Steve twice.

I think I pissed Evie off, when I tried to explain that I wanted to say the right thing. I think she took it that I didn't expect to see him again. The words weren't there, for me to tell her it wasn't that I _expected_ it, but I didn't think I could take another 'should've' in my life.

Should've told Mom that I loved her.

Should've blown off work and visited Johnny.

Should've stopped...

Shit.

Evie looked about as sad as I felt. She only picked at the fries we bought, although they were pretty good. I heard myself telling her that I wanted to change my life some. I could see she was surprised. I'd been working at the DX as long as I'd known her.

I wonder if there's any job that's exactly how it looks from the outside? Like, people see a person pumping gas an' assume that's it. They don't get that the cash register has to be balanced every shift, parts for the workshop gotta be ordered and then outstanding deliveries need chasing. Regular customers have their services booked in, emergency repairs need to be fitted around those slots. Even the sodas in the icebox need restocking by someone.

Pretty much all of it drove me crazy.

But then, I was coming around to the idea that maybe all jobs sucked. I sure never put much thought into what keeps a farm ticking over.

First time up at Jo's family place, I got to thinking 'I could do this', easy. Driving past the fields, I admit I thought being out in the countryside—on horseback—would suit me just fine. Never realized that those fields wouldn't look like that without someone planting 'em, back a few months, and planning what to plant even earlier than that. And near killing themselves to get the stuff cut, or harvested, or whatever it's called, at exactly the right time. Never considered that one season of too much rain, or too much sun, or too much any kind of weather might mean that everything you did would be trashed anyhow. Meaning you have to buy in animal feed, at hiked up prices.

And the animals you need the feed for? Horses, they're worth it. But I'd have to die and come back with a new brain to have any kind of feeling for cows. They're slow an' stupid and, _Christ_, but they smell bad. Gimme a stable to clean out, any day, over them and what they produce.

I think it was the third time I stepped in cow shit that Gary laughed and told me I'd never make a farmer with a face on me like that.

"I dunno why you look so surprised, Tulsa, it's a field of cows. 'S'why we're mending the fence, keep the stock in."

Yeah, stupid dumb beasts, who knock a fence down and then stand around crapping on the line, too stupid to go anywhere anyways. And to think I'd been pleased when Jo's brothers said they needed some help and to leave the chicks discussing wedding dresses, or whatever.

I yanked on the wire, the way Sam had showed me, and braced for Gary to pull the other end tight as he reset the post.

"Just as well," Gary went on, still riffing on why I'd make a godawful farmer. "You wouldn't get Joey back here this side of Kingdom Come. If Uncle Jim hadn't come up with that job offer, she'd been outta here anyway. She was looking into secretary school."

That pulled me up short. How close had I come to never meeting Jo at all? What would my life have been like then? I thought about all the plans we'd been making, on the drive up—plans that had been swirling in my head these last few weeks, but that I'd finally gotten across to Jo. Maybe the refinery idea was a bust, but I needed something different. Just not cattle farming.

I mumbled something about the DX not being the perfect job either.

Gary shot me a look I wasn't expecting. Surprise, with confusion mixed in. "Do what you like, can't ya? Ain't like—" he broke off, as Sam cantered up. He gave us a tired smile.

"Reckon that's it. I been all down past Palmer's lower forty, an' it looks okay."

"Hallelujah." Gary yanked off his work gloves, shoving them into his belt. "I'mma take Tulsa here down to The Hole, you coming?"

Sam shook his head.

We rode past his place, a smaller version of the farmhouse I already knew and he peeled off. His wife and kids were in the yard and waved at Gary as we carried on. I made a comment about how cool it was that they all lived on the property. Said something about it being convenient, so he wouldn't take me for a pansy, getting all gooey over a white picket fence. Gary snorted anyway.

"Where else's he gonna live? Him and me was born right there. Mom and Dad only moved up to the big house when Dad took over from Grandpa. Guess Sam'll do the same. An' Mikey after him." He made a circle gesture with his hand, round and round.

I asked him where he planned on living, if he ever got married.

Gary winked. "Very good question," he said, kicking his horse on. I nearly didn't catch up to him. I hadn't been given Tabasco this time, as there was waiting around involved while we fixed the fences and he was not a patient creature. Instead I was on 'Grits', who was an even tempered plodder. Yeah, I'd noticed now, all their horses had food names. Sam said it went back so far as a tradition, no one remembered why any more.

I'd assumed I'd get to spend some time with Jo that evening, but neither she nor her mom batted an eye when Gary said he was taking me out.

'The Hole' turned out to be a bar on the _other_ road out of town, which is why I hadn't passed it driving up. The dirt lot held pickups and cars and even a couple of tractors. There was another word flickering in the middle of the neon signage that might have been 'Watering' once upon a time. But plain 'Hole' suited it fine. It was dark inside and the long, thin room smelled of old beer and sweat. I couldn't tell if the walls were as sticky as the floor, but I made a mental note not to lean on any surface if I could help it.

Gary called to the bar tender to set us up with a couple of beers. Apparently the order automatically came double, because he placed two bottles in front of the both of us.

"He's twenty one, right?" the guy asked, without even looking at me. Gary told him, sure I was, with a wink. I smiled. I had a perfectly good fake in my wallet, but it didn't seem like the kind of place where I needed to worry.

The reason for the double order became clear when Gary drained his first beer without pausing to breathe. He looked around and spotted a free table, exchanging greetings with a few guys as we made our way over. I felt like an idiot, carrying both my beers, when he was started on his second, but I had no intention of getting crocked in front of him. In front of anyone in this dive, not when I didn't know which of 'em knew Jo. Maybe Gary seemed not to hate me anymore, but I wasn't taking any chances.

"So," said Gary, leaning back in his chair and stretching some. Farming was damn hard work. I was feeling it in my own back too, and my hands, which was weird. Muscles in your hands, go figure. "What's wrong with your job? Thought you was some kind of gear head, seems like working with cars would suit you."

I was surprised to find the bottle nearly empty, when I drank as a delaying tactic, trying to come up with any answer other than the truth.

"Yeah. I guess it did, when I only had myself to think about." That was also kind of the truth. When I started at the DX, it was almost a pretend job, playing with other people's cars, waiting on three o'clock when all the girls would come by after school. Shooting the breeze with Steve.

"Don't it pay any good?"

I shrugged.

Gary pulled a face at me. "Don't see what your problem is. Just do something else. Ain't like it's a family business you're shackled to, no chance of parole." That sounded personal.

I thought about me and the DX. Thought about how, when I first got the job—after school shifts, the weekend openers and closers that the full time guys never wanted—my overriding motivation was dough; 'bucks for beer and babes'. I had to smile when I thought about Mom slapping Dad upside the head for that quote, it had sounded about right to me at the time.

I didn't remember when I was first able to smile, thinking about them. I remembered believing it would never happen. That the dark feeling in the days after their accident would go on forever and I would never be happy again. There were still times when it sneaked up on me. I'd had to walk out of the room in the middle of 'Bonanza' once, because Ben Cartwright told Little Joe he was proud of him. He didn't even look like Dad, for Chrissakes!

But the other thing that happened, when I remembered some of Dad's comments, _that_ was even harder to get my head around. I had to admit to myself it even scared me a little: _That maybe Dad was wrong about stuff_. I couldn't work out if I'd have thought that way if they were still here, or if it was a result of us living different nowadays. I knew for a fact the suspicion had gotten stronger when Steve's dad died. 'Cause if Eddie could work out his life insurance to make sure Steve was financially okay, and Eddie barely seemed to give a shit about Steve, why the hell hadn't my dad made a better job of it? Steve might not be rich, but the house he grew up in was safely his.

I watched Darry go through Mom and Dad's papers, trying to find some savings bond or insurance policy that would help us. Something. Anything.

One of Mom's favorite sayings was: 'We might not have much, but we have each other.' And when you're a kid, that makes all the sense in the world 'cause you don't realize you also need mortgage payments and electric money, and food and school books and, dammit, no wonder Darry didn't stand a hope in hell of going to college right from high school and had to get a job alongside Dad, 'to save up'.

'Saving up' wasn't one of Dad's specialties, obviously. His throwaway comment about my pocket money job at the DX was kind of his way of living. Not 'beer and babes' obviously. He loved Mom. And us. But fun stuff. 'Spend it when you've got it' stuff. Like when he came home with the color TV— from a guy he met down at Buck's, who had a half dozen stashed in his truck, going cheap, just as long no one asked too many questions.

I never thought anything of it, because everyone where we lived seemed to be in the same boat, money-wise. But...Johnny's old man was never in work at all, and Two-Bit's mom was basically managing on tips. I know there was three of us to feed and clothe, but shouldn't we have been doing a little better? I couldn't ever ask Dad now, but I thought I knew the answer.

And that was what scared me.

I was pretty sure Darry knew the score and that was why he was bound and determined to get Pony to college. Not to go one better than Dad, but just to prove it could be done. I was too chicken to ask him outright, if he felt cheated for himself.

I hadn't—_couldn't_—let myself go down that road with regard to Mom and what she thought about it all. Whether she was okay with never having any dough. I sure wished I'd paid attention though, when she said to be careful with stuff. Wished I hadn't trashed so many items of clothing, or lost so many sneakers. Wished I hadn't been such a..._kid_ and she could see me now, thinking real hard about what to do with my life and how to make things good for me and Jo.

I went back to Gary's comment about being 'shackled' to the family business. "Do you not wanna work the farm?" I asked him.

There was something in the way he narrowed his eyes a little that said even more than his words. "'_Want_' don't come into it."

"Because it's a family thing?"

"Yup." He rolled the bottle in his hand, rocking the edge of the glass on the table. "That an' the fact that I can't do nothing else."

I wasn't exactly over qualified myself, was I? That little truth made me think about Darry again. He never seemed to be a massive bookbuster when he was in high school, he was just good at everything. That was how he was, at least from my perspective, growing up. Everything came easy to him, until it got to taking up that college place. And then nothing much was easy again.

Gary went on: "I woulda liked to give the rodeo circuit a decent shot." I dragged my attention back to his quiet comment. He shook his head at himself. "You gotta travel though, and I never could afford the time, let alone the 'associated costs'." That last came with a wink and I wasn't sure if he was referring to hospital bills or something else.

I wondered how good he'd been, to consider it for real. I'd never had the chance to find out for myself, it was just kids' stuff I was dabbling in before I was stopped. And since then, helping out at Barratt's place and up here at Jo's, I'd discovered that I didn't need the arena to enjoy being on horseback, there was way more to it than that.

A couple of chicks strolled through the barroom. One flung her arms around Gary's neck from behind. He didn't jump.

"Hey, Gary darlin', who's your friend?" she asked.

Gary smiled slowly. "This here is Sodapop."

"Well, what'd ya know—" she slid into the chair next to me. "I was just getting thirsty."

I nodded hello, polite enough.

"You don't live 'round here," said the other one, also helping herself to a seat. "I'm Candy."

"Sodapop and Candy. Y'all sound like you oughta be at the movies." The first girl shrieked with laughter. I knew that Gary was watching me, but I kept my cool and when she went on to demand that the two of us buy the two of them a drink, I smiled.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I left my wallet at my girlfriend's house."

"How about if I buy my own drink, and you don't need to tell your girlfriend?" Candy gave me one of _those_ looks and leaned in close enough for me to see down her top. If I'd been looking in that direction.

"Can't be done," I pretended to whisper, with a nod towards Gary. "I'm drinking with her brother."

Candy sat up sharply. "I thought Audrey was marrying that Wateridge boy..." she trailed off as Gary simply grinned at her. "Jo-Anne? You an' Jo-Anne?" She pronounced it like it was two separate names.

I nodded.

There was a lot of pouting and they started to flounce away.

"Hey," objected Gary. "What about me? Don't I get to buy no one a drink?"

The nameless one, who'd draped her arms around him, waved him away with a laugh. "Guess you ain't wearing your lucky boots tonight, Gary darlin'." He winced.

Again with the boots. I wondered how drunk I'd have to get him, to hear that story.

Gary snorted. "That better not be true, about your wallet, Tulsa. It's your round."

I never did get the story out of him, that night. But I did a lot of thinking about the rest of that conversation with Gary. And sitting with Evie in that roadside diner brought me back around to the subject of jobs and what to do with my life. Finding out that Gary felt stuck had made me wonder what else I'd taken wrong about their farm and their nice house and all.

"What'd your dad do?" he'd asked me, when I was complaining about the DX.

I'd told him, 'roofing', but that was only the most recent. When I was real little Dad worked a road crew. And he did a spell at a haulage company, but Mom didn't like him being away overnights. He always seemed to find something, when he was ready for a change.

Maybe that was part of the problem. That idea stopped me cold.

Was that like me, dropping out? Which had been as much about hating school as making money, to be completely honest with myself.

What if changing jobs was a bad move? What if I oughta stick it out at the DX? How long was two years anyway? Steve would be back and everything would be back to normal, in two years...

Whatever job I did, Steve wouldn't be there.

I finished up the fries and told Evie we oughta hit the road again.

* * *

**A/N: Since someone asked: Jo's birthdate is January 25th 1949. For me, the book events take place in September 1965 and I use the birthdays given by S.E. Hinton for the boys. So, Steve turned eighteen in April '66, Soda in Oct '66. I've added Evie's birthday in Dec and then Jo in late January. **

**And, yes, this fic is planned to go past the end of 'Love Me Two Times'. A little. :)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I have been SO busy. And although it's been in a good way :) I feel like I've slipped off both writing and posting schedules. So, this is short, as is the next one, but 'better something than nothing', I hope! As always, I appreciate every read and review - if I missed thanking anyone over the last few weeks, I apologize. And, if you get to the end and think I've skipped over some fairly major events, please check out 'Love Me Two Times', 'cause that summer really needs reading from Evie's POV. **

* * *

**Jo**

_I am a bad person._

_I am the worst, worst, most awful person in the world._

_I am most likely going straight to Hell, and y'know what? Right now, this second, I don't fucking care._

xxXxx

I made my big brothers laugh, the first time they asked me about Soda. And not because of his name, although they razzed me about that something awful.

See, I told them he was kind. Considerate. I told them he'd fixed my car and fixed my day, made everything better. Told them—after a couple of very pointed questions from Gary—that he treated me like a lady and was not _'some hound dog city slicker, out to cop a feel, or worse'_.

And then they found out he was a greaser.

"Holy cow, Joey," Gary spluttered. "What'd he do, fix your engine with his switchblade?"

Sam was a little calmer, but still let me know he didn't like the idea of me hanging around with any gang members and he wanted to know where Soda got his money from, 'cause Pete chipped in with the unhelpful 'fact' that a friend of his was mugged by two greasers when he was dumb enough to step into an alley with them, to buy some grass.

"Well, he ain't that kind of greaser," I said confidently. At that point we hadn't been dating for too long, but I _knew_. I knew deep in my heart that I was right about Soda. He was all those things I'd described and more.

They say 'time will tell', and it just confirmed that I'd been right. I'd found one of the good guys and if I'd needed to quantify that, I could:

I knew steady when I saw it. Hadn't Sam married his high school sweetheart, and weren't they perfectly happy, two kids an' all? When Soda told me his plan for saving and then marrying, so we'd be comfortable to start a family, I knew it would work, because I had Sam as living proof.

Gary was never an example of anything approaching sensible behavior, but I knew what a happy man looked like, because of him. I mean really, properly happy. That was Gary, on the back of a horse—preferably an ornery one, trying to unseat him—and it was Gary again, after a rodeo, with some pretty girl on his arm and a beer in the other hand. And it was Soda, when we were dancing, or laughing with everyone, or snuggled up somewhere just the two of us.

And I knew quiet. Watching other people, to make sure everyone was okay and had what they needed. Pete might have been shouted down when the two eldest were yelling about something, but he was most always right and when the dust settled they usually came around to his way of thinking. He knew people as well as he knew his books. I hadn't ever seen Soda with a book in his hand, but the way he watched out for his brothers, for Evie and Jay, _for me_...

I'd seen the best in my brothers and I'd seen the worst. I'd seen them fight and cuss and be unfair to each other. I'd picked up their dirty socks and their trash. I'd watched them do stupid things and downright dangerous things. They were as human as Soda was, and I was proud of who they were and I loved them.

_But that night, I hated them. _

_That night I would have made the sickest, most disgusting deal with the Devil himself. _

xxXxx

I met Evie's sister again, over the summer. Her new baby looked tiny, compared to Jay. And she was kind of fussy – Sarah, I mean, not the baby. It seemed to me that everything Evie did got some kind of comment or criticism from her big sister, and half the time it wasn't necessary. Hell, even if it was, Jay was effectively Evie's kid now, so whose business was it if she liked to dress him different, or feed him different from what Sarah thought was 'proper'?

Mind you, there was a lot of that going around. Over those summer months, Soda insisted that we double with Pony and his new girlfriend a few times and she sure gave Sarah a run for her money, as far as 'prissy' went.

_Yeah Cathy_, I wanted to say, _we know you're smart_, after she 'casually' dropped her fancy boarding school into the conversation for about the hundredth time. I hadn't even gone to Will Rogers and sure, Soda could care less, but I wondered how Pony liked her constantly doing down the teachers and the standards and whatever. I was particularly hacked by the way she implied that Pony could've gone to this other school, if he only saved up the way she had.

_'A', Miss Cathy_, with your prissy purse and your not-quite-short-enough-to-be-considered-hip skirt, _the Curtis boys have had other things to be spending their money on, if you hadn't noticed_, and _'B', maybe he wouldn't have wanted to go away for school, not even for 'superior literature understanding' or whatever shit seems more important to you than sticking by his brothers in their time of grief._

This last was true, I would have bet my last dollar, because despite his smarts Pony was talking about putting off college. I couldn't quite see why Darry got so bent out of shape, the first time the subject came up; Pony seemed pretty sure that the scholarship he had been offered—after Steve's stepdad stepped up to the plate for him and showed his writing around—would still be there in another year.

I said as much to Evie and she agreed. She also pointed out to me that Pony was young for college anyway and any time he did there before he was eighteen would be wasting time he could offset against the draft. That was the argument had shut his bigger brother right up.

Wow. I hadn't thought of that. Ponyboy going into the military seemed about as sick-making as Chris having to go, to me. They were still kids. Not that Chris was in any danger, of course.

I hadn't ever told Evie about my brothers being safe from the draft. It wasn't something I went around broadcasting generally and it just never came up before Steve went, and then afterwards it didn't seem like something I should mention. It was still a really raw subject. Steve's lawyer hadn't been able to swing him any special dispensation, not even when Jay's mom got her stoned ass arrested and Jay dropped unexpectedly into Evie's custody.

Now, whenever Evie peppered her conversation with 'Steve said...' or 'Steve thinks...', I was too embarrassed to ask if she meant from before he went to Vietnam, or if his opinion was being delivered in one of his not very frequent letters.

Evie was a kick-ass chick. Sure she'd asked for help, got the guys to step up and mind Jay more frequently. And I admit I'd thought Two-Bit moving in with her was a touch scandalous, but everything she did was for that kid and by extension, for Steve. She was tough enough.

_But that night, all I could think about was that I couldn't face being like her._

_That night I would have bargained away Ponyboy, college or not. Even, God help me, Chris._

_That's how bad a person I am._

xxXxx

"No."

I moved back a pace, nearer the house, away from Soda.

Somehow, if I insisted hard enough, if I refused to accept what he was telling as truth, I would make it be the lie I needed it to be. So I said, no. Over and again.

"Jo, honey—"

"_No_."

Soda winced and tried to take my hand again. I stayed just out of his reach, although what I really wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and anchor him to my side forever. But I backed up, catching my heel on the bottom porch step and sitting down hard.

He looked down at me, started to apologize, even though it wasn't his fault, couldn't be down to him, not in a million years.

I held up a hand to stop him, to buy myself another fraction of a second before I had to accept what he was saying. "It might be a mistake." I grasped at the slimmest of straws. "They might've sent it to the wrong person."

"Baby," he raised the shadow of a smile, "how many Sodapop Curtises you think there are?"

_Just mine. Just mine. Just mine._

He shrugged. "It's not so bad. Steve said it's like..." I knew that Soda was talking, but I didn't even hear whatever lie had been filtered through the reports of Steve fucking Randle's fucking Army experience. Because it _was_ bad. It was as bad as it could get.

_"I need to tell you something. I'm drafted, honey. I got drafted." _

That was the only thing I could hear.

"Don't go." I could see by the shape of his mouth that I'd broken across whatever he was saying, interrupted whatever comfort he was trying to give me. "Don't go. Please, Soda, don't go. Go to Canada. You can do that, you can go to Canada. I'll come with you. Don't go, don't—" The babbling pouring out my mouth only stopped because he grabbed me by the upper arms and yanked me to my feet, holding me so tight I lost my breath.

Or did I just not bother breathing, because—what was the point? What was the point?

The sound of my crying brought Aunt Emma out. I guess there's only so much noise you can ignore on your own porch steps.

"What in the world...?" Uncle Jim was hard on her heels.

I heard Soda tell them, speaking over my shoulder, because I wouldn't let go of him. My tears were soaking into his shirt. I was past the point of no return and now I was really sobbing, snot and all.

Aunt Emma tried to peel me away, her voice concerned. "Jo, come on now."

"No!" I flung myself back a step, making both Aunt Em and Soda flinch. "It ain't fair! _It ain't fair_."

"Today, son? You got your notice today?" Uncle Jim came a few steps closer. "So you have a coupla weeks yet?"

Soda nodded to both questions. "I don't know how to tell my boss," he said, in a flat voice. "We're already down, on account of Steve..."

"That ain't your problem. Your boss will understand that."

I could not get my head around the fact that they were having a sensible conversation. That the both of them sounded calm, like they were discussing arrangements for an upcoming football game, or rodeo.

"Stop!" I all but stamped my foot in temper. "How can you worry about that? How can you act like this is nothing?" They blinked at me as I raged on. "This is horrible, don't you get it? Why are you acting like it's nothing?"

"_Joanne_." Uncle Jim laid his hand on my shoulder and even though he was gentle, it felt heavy. "Sweetheart. Look again." He put his arm around Aunt Emma's shoulders and they went into the house.

His quiet words had shut me up, brought me back down to earth and I looked at Soda, _really_ looked at him. I got my arms around him just as he cracked, and this time it was his tears on my shirt. This time it was me repeating the most useless words in the English language.

_It'll be okay. It'll be okay. It'll be okay_.

And that night, as I lay in bed, out of tears and out of hope, I resorted to bargaining with the Devil, because I didn't think prayers would cut it. I needed something stronger. more binding. If Satan himself had appeared to me I'd have sold my soul without a moment's hesitation. I'd have sold anyone's soul.

_Take anyone, not Soda. I'll do anything, promise anything, just take someone else. _

_Even one of my brothers._

_Even his._

_I don't want to be Evie._

_I don't want..._

_I don't..._

_I am a bad person. And I don't care._


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Okay, see what I've done? It seemed like this chapter needed sharing, 'cause it's kind of an important moment... ;)**

* * *

**Soda**

I'd figured maybe she wanted to swing by the lake, or the burger shack where we had our first date, even though we never made a big thing of the place before, and I'd eaten enough of the pizza Pony had sprung for.

Never thought I'd see the day when I wasn't in the mood for pizza. But I had to force it down, 'cause he thought he was being all grown up by paying. And by pretending it was some normal night, some normal pizza night that just happened to be the last time I'd see anybody for who knew how long.

Everyone was doing a good job of pretending, including me, on the outside. I thought about Steve's last night before he left, wondered if his head had been whirling inside, like mine.

No one made a fuss when Jo said we were taking some air. I guess they thought she wanted to grab us a little alone time. That's what I thought. And that fitted well with my own plans. But when Jo parked the Rambler outside Steve's pad, I was kind of confused.

Just for a second, a split second, the tiniest piece of time imaginable, I wondered if Steve was home. If he was somehow, miraculously, home and Jo knew and was going to surprise me.

But the lights were off and she had to use the key to get in, so it wasn't that. Couldn't ever have been that, the sane, non whirling, part of my mind knew.

**Jo**

I could see Soda was a little freaked and I felt bad about that. I knew how much he missed Steve and how much of what he was afraid of, for himself, was down to some of the things he'd been afraid of, for Steve. I went around putting on table lamps, sliding a record onto the player, pouring us drinks. Maybe it was weird, being in Evie's house, but coming here seemed more relaxed, more...normal. Not as sleazy as a motel. Seeing as how we weren't going to get champagne and roses at Niagara Falls, not in this lifetime.

"What're we doing here?" Soda couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.

I patted the seat next to me, on the couch. "Thought we could do with a little peace and quiet."

"Oh. Okay." He still seemed nervous, which didn't make a whole lot of sense. Even if he'd guessed what I'd planned, it wasn't like that would freak him out. At least, I didn't think it would. I _hoped_. One of us needed to know what to do. Soda bit his lip. "I was gonna suggest we went for a drive, anyway."

"You were?" My turn to be surprised. I kissed him. He tasted of beer and pepperoni, but I supposed that I did too. I told him I loved him and hoped that he heard it different from any other time I'd said it. Heard that it was truer than any other time I'd said it.

"I love you too. That's what's gonna get me through, you know that, right? That's all I'm gonna think about..." He kept his arms around me, kept us close as he told me how much he loved me, more than anything else in the whole world. More than any_one_ else in the whole world.

**Soda**

I wasn't exactly scared of what I was building up to. But it felt like such an important thing, such a majorly important thing. I mean, how often do you realize before you do something, _'I'm gonna remember this for the rest of my life_'?

Most of the things that were burned into my brain were bad things, to be honest. Things that I'd be happy to forget, but which stayed with me, regardless. Things that caught me by surprise, no warning. But I'd been building up to _this_ for a while now.

It struck me as funny, suddenly, that it was about to happen in Steve's front room. _That_ I hadn't imagined. Maybe the lake, maybe the flower garden at Jo's aunt's, 'somewhere nice', is all I'd been thinking of. It had nearly happened the day before, I wasn't saving it 'til today deliberate or nothin', not trying to make a grand romantic gesture. It just never quite got to where we had enough time on our own for me to tell her exactly what was going on in my head.

I loved that she'd picked up on that. Found us a quiet space tonight. I loved her.

**Jo**

For some reason, Soda kept sliding away, wriggling his hips back from me, no matter how much I kissed him. Part of me wanted to smile, thinking of all the times we'd had to hold back, all the times one of us put the brakes on, oh so reluctantly. I figured he was doing that, out of habit.

"You don't haveta," I whispered, between kisses. "Not tonight."

He mumbled something that sounded like, "Yeah, I do." But then he opened his eyes wide as I reached around to unzip my dress. I turned my back on him, 'cause I could only reach the top section unless I twisted my arms weird.

"Can you do the rest?" I asked, my heart starting to race. I felt his hand on my back, but what he said was,

"What's going on?"

I stood up and held out my hand. "I wanna stay here tonight." Damn, that was not exactly what I meant to say. I willed myself not to blush. "I wanna go to bed. Come to bed." I started to feel stupid, with my hand held out, while he just stared at me.

"Is _that_ why you brought us here?"

"Soda!" I dropped my hand. How could he still be confused? Unless... "Don't you wanna?" I forced out the question.

Soda jumped up on his feet, laughing for some reason. "Hell, yeah. _I mean_, yes...Honey, you sure?" Before I'd even nodded, he went on, digging in his jeans pocket as he did so, "It's only that I was thinking 'bout something else. Thinking that I finally got the time and space to give you this."

I heard myself take a breath in, as I realized what he was holding.

The box wobbled in his hand a little, like he was still nervous. "Oh. Wait." He opened the box and took out the ring. "_This_, I mean. Not the box. 'Cause the box ain't important—" he dropped it onto the couch, as proof of that "—I was thinking 'bout the ring, talking 'bout the ring—"

"_Soda_."

He shut up, blinking at me. My eyes were filling up as I smiled at him.

"Oh. Wait, still not right." He dropped to one knee, holding the ring out. "Better?"

I leaned down and kissed him, pulling him back onto his feet and wrapping myself around him. I didn't need some movie scene proposal. I didn't need some Disney-perfect tableau. What I needed was to have him safe, alive, and by my side. And at least one of those was going to change, soon enough.

**Soda**

Somehow the ring was on Jo's finger and somehow we'd made it into the bedroom. I had no recall of making that decision, we just got there, kissing the whole time.

I guess I made the zipper work somehow, 'cause she stepped out of her dress and draped it on a chair. I was thinking, wow, she's real neat, it's gonna drive her nuts when we're married, that I usually just drop my clothes on the floor...

And then my arms were around her again and we found the bed, and I was pretty sure that time had stopped still. It really felt like outside this room the whole world had frozen and we were the only two people alive. Breathing. Touching. _Alive._

Because there was no way I could feel like _this_ and there be enough energy left over for anyone else.

**Jo**

"Uh, Jo, honey."

I drifted back from the lovely state where thinking and deciding had no place, to hear Soda continue, between kisses,

"We gotta...wait a second." He leaned away from me, reaching for his jeans on the floor, scrabbling in the pockets for his wallet, as I tried to pull him back to me. Then I realized what he must be looking for.

"Oh, I have some. They're in my purse." My purse. In the other room. I hadn't thought to get one ready. I didn't _know_ to get one ready. At what point was it usual to get one out? This point, obviously.

Soda froze, in the act of opening the little envelope. "You have some?" He broke out into a wide grin. "_You_ bought rubbers?" I nodded shyly. "_You_? Bought Trojans?" I promised myself I was never going to tell him I'd driven clear out to Glenpool, to make sure the pharmacist wouldn't know me. Soda was still chuckling. "How long you been planning on seducing me?"

_Two weeks, this time around. Thirteen days, three hours, since you told me. Since I faced the possibility of losing you._

"Well, I didn't know if you...wait. How come you have one?"

He gave me a guilty little look. "Y'know, some of those times before, we got pretty close. I figured, in case we ever changed our minds, I'd oughta be prepared. It's still good, they keep a long while."

Oh. Fair enough. Also, enough talking about it. I pulled him back for another kiss. "Although, I guess...we could've...y'know...right now even, you could be careful..."

Soda looked at me with those beautiful, sincere eyes and smiled. "No, honey. I really don't think I could."

And then I got to find out why.

**Soda**

I must have been lying, all those times I told her.

All those times I said, _'I love you'_, I must have got it wrong.

Because _this, _this was what it truly felt like. All my life I was waiting for this. And I never even knew.

Jo stretched a little bit underneath me and I made sure I had my weight on my elbow, so as not to crush her, but there was no way I was moving. No way I was separating us, not when I'd just discovered that we were meant to be like this.

She opened her eyes and smiled up at me, the sexiest, best smile she ever gave me. A tiny tear ran from the corner of her eye.

"Are you crying?"

"_Are you_?"

Yeah, maybe, a little bit. "Nah," I said, kissing away the tear before it disappeared. "Are you sure you're okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm just happy."

"Me too."

"And sad."

_Me too._ "It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna be okay."

I fucking hated that the fucking draft was _here_, in this moment, that it could spoil this for us. And on top of that, I felt mean, somewhere deep down inside, because I knew she did this for all the right reasons and it _was_ right, it _was_ good and we _were_ meant to be together like this, but...But it was gonna be even tougher for me, being away now; knowing what it felt like to hold her in my arms, knowing that I had the best and safest place to be in the whole world, but I couldn't be there.

**Jo**

Soda rolled us a little, so I could snuggle against him as he eased back on the pillows. I put my head on his chest and listened to his heart beating.

Apart from the 'naked' thing, I'd thought I already knew what it felt like to lie in his arms. I'd imagined it, when we were on a blanket out at the lake—hell, even when watching TV stretched out on the couch at his house, I'd thought to myself, _this is what it would be like to be in bed with him._ I was a complete idiot.

There was no comparison.

_Please, please, please, let me get to do this again. Let me get to fall asleep with him and wake up with him and lie so close that it's hard to tell where I stop and he starts..._

There was still time. I was past the hysterical bargaining I'd done in my head at first, and I'd just about forgiven myself for those stupid thoughts, not to mention the fact that I'd lied to Evie, told her I'd taken the news well. But I couldn't quite let go of one tiny little hope, one last straw to clutch at, however irrational. Because there _was_ still time, for the Army to realize they'd made a mistake, for them to call and say, don't bother showing up, we got it wrong...

_Please, please, please._

**Soda**

Well, now I would never again be able to call sex 'sleeping with someone'. 'Cause _sleeping_ with Jo—and more importantly, waking up with her—was something else entirely. I woke up a couple of times in the night, just enough to be aware of where I was and since 'where I was' was wrapped around the girl I loved, I reckon I fell back to sleep with a smile on my face every time.

It was just getting light when Jo eased out of bed. I reached for her, but she said she'd be right back. I guess girls gotta pee, like everyone else. I closed my eyes again until I heard her exclaim my name in the front room. She sounded a little shocked, so I started to sit up and then she was in the bedroom door, the ring box in her hand, like evidence.

"I know where this store is," she said, sounding half horrified. "That's a fancy place, Soda!"

_Thank you, savings jar._ "You think I just got Two-Bit to find me any old junk ring?"

She giggled. Hell, but she looked cute, wearing my shirt for a robe. "I bet you wouldn't say that to Steve an' Evie," she said. But she was looking at her ring with a new eye.

I beckoned her over and pulled her into a cuddle. "It's all good, honey, I promise. Bought and paid for. You like it, right?"

"Are you kidding? I love it." Jo looked almost shy as she played with the ring on her finger. "Is it okay if I call my mom later? I mean, to tell her? It's official right, we're engaged?"

"Sure," I said, "you can tell her that. Tell everyone that. But that ain't what it means to me."

She stiffened, misunderstanding. "_What_?"

I picked up her hand and kissed it, tapping the ring. "This? This ain't an engagement ring. 'Engagement ring' means you're intending on getting married, right? Half way there. Well, we already knew that. I _always_ knew that."

She blinked at me. I could see I wasn't explaining properly, she still didn't understand. I tried again.

"Way I see it is, this is the next step. _This_ here is your _wedding_ ring. An' after last night—" I grinned "—this is it, for us. Far as I'm concerned, we're married. I'll be coming home to my wife, no half way about it."

I watched the smile that spread over her face, then her hands were on my own face and she kissed me. "You lovely idiot." She laughed. "I still get a wedding, though! You ain't getting out of that."

No. I had no intention of getting out of that.

* * *

**A/N: No, I don't have a tumblr...**


	21. Chapter 21

**Soda**

_"What's your name, pretty boy?"_

I couldn't even begin to count up how many times in my life I've tackled this question, or some variation of it. But this time seemed like it might be the one that killed all the others stone dead. This time when I answered, it might well be the difference between two years of hell, or not.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, like we'd been told to, as I spoke up: "_Curtis_, sergeant." Definitely 'sergeant'. _Gotta remember that_. One kid had already had a new one ripped for saying 'sir', which was apparently as bad as a cuss word when applied to one of these screaming machines.

The drill sergeant stepped in close enough that I felt the guy next to me in line start shaking. "Your _other_ name, punk."

I hadn't exactly socialized with any of the guys on the bus from Oklahoma Cit to Fort Sill. I'd closed my eyes some of the way, pretended to sleep, to get my head around the fact that it was really happening. I wasn't sure if the men who'd been around me at the MEPS—when our surnames were called out for each of the rooms we passed through, for the medical—were in this line or not. This was quite possibly my introduction to the people I'd be sharing a room with for the next eight weeks.

And the fucker knew. He had a clipboard with all our names on, he already knew what I was called, he just wanted to hear me say it.

"_Patrick_, sergeant," I chanced.

When he took a step back it was purely so everyone in the line could see him pantomime reading the list in his file. He shook his head. "Don't see no Patrick Curtis here. You sure that's what your mama called you, punk? You wanna try again?"

"Sodapop. _Sergeant_. My first name is Sodapop." I should never have given him the leverage to call me out for lying. It wasn't even an all out lie, for Christ's sake.

There was an audible snigger from further up the line. The drill sergeant's eyes slid sideways, like a snake's, and silence reigned again. He tapped the clipboard.

"That's what I thought it said. _Soda_. _Pop_." Sergeant Keller spoke with a Louisiana twang that split words into their syllables, but I knew he did that one on purpose. "Well, how about that. You raised in the circus, punk? Born at the state fair?"

I swallowed hard. Kept my eyes facing forward.

"Wait. I got it. Were you con-ceived behind the con-cession stand at the drive in?"

_"No!" _

There was a nervous murmur from most of my neighbors at my embarrassed reaction. Suddenly aware of my body language, I unclenched my fists as unobtrusively as I could, just as the door we were waiting on opened and the men ahead of me shuffled some. The sergeant smiled slowly. He walked up to the head of the line and stuck his arm out, to halt the guy at the front.

"Wait there, worm. I do believe we have a volunteer to go first. Ain't that so, Cotton-Candy?" He beckoned to me and I had no choice but to walk over to him. I had no fucking choice about anything anymore.

The drill sergeant pointed me at the barber's chair. "Corporal," he snapped at the man inside, the one with the clippers in his hand. "Let's make this a good one."

It didn't meant anything. That's what I kept telling myself, during the following one and a half minutes. Not a thing.

_"You want me to ask my sister to do it for you? She ain't that bad."_

_I'd grinned and told Evie, Nah. I'd let the Army do the job. What I meant was 'they can take it, but I ain't giving it away.'_

Nothing. Not important.

_"Look at you. My little golden angel." I could feel Mom's hand, brushing my bangs back. She always got mushy when we were spruced up for special occasions, told us we were handsome and all that bull. Of course, I usually rolled my eyes, said 'Mo-omm' in that stretched-out way. But secretly I liked that she said I was special because I was the only blond one._

I kept my eyes down, focused on the bottom edge of the mirror in front, on the reflection of the waistband of my jeans. But I couldn't help but see pieces of the hair that fell, because the guy flicked the clippers sideways after each pass, clicking his tongue on his teeth like he was pissed that my hair was so long. Some of it fell onto my lap. Maybe he _was_ hacked. I wouldn't wanna spend all day doing his job.

"Move your ass."

I guess he was done. I made my way to the door, thinking about where I was supposed to go next. I hadn't paid that much attention, because I hadn't been first in line. Maybe if it was somewhere with a mirror, that would let me check out how I looked without anyone bugging me. It didn't happen because the drill sergeant was still there and he pointed to a spot right next to the door for me to step onto.

"_This_," he announced to the line, "is what you pansies have waiting for you. Tootsie Roll here is now approaching what a man should look like." A couple of the nearest guys swallowed as they stared at my head. The next one in line stepped inside. I couldn't stand it any longer and I went to touch my head.

"_Put your hand down!_" snapped the sergeant without even turning around. "You will not fondle your hair. You will not contemplate your hair. You will not fucking _mourn_ your hair, you hippie-shit pussy. You _will_ stand there as a fine example of the Army's generosity in making all you candy asses into men."

And I did. One by one the guys went by me, looking nervous, or smirking—even though they were about to look just like me—or, in a couple of cases, completely unable to raise their eyes at all.

Meanwhile, the first guy came out and was instructed to stand further down, starting a new line–he was actually bleeding, where the clippers had nicked his ear. It nearly killed me not to run my hand over my head to check myself. By the time the whole lot of 'em had been through, I was feeling sick with the effort of standing still and weirdly grateful that we then had to run to the next building.

I was also last in line now, meaning that the kit they handed out—as we passed along a counter being handed shirts, socks, boots and whatever—was a mixture of sizes depending on what was left.

Next building; one of the battered looking two story sheds that counted as 'barracks'. We had five minutes to grab a bedspace and change into uniform. Make that three, because I used up two minutes getting into a beef with a ginger haired guy who elbowed me, trying to claim the last top bunk, just as I dumped my kit on it.

"What's your problem, Sugar Cube?" he snickered and I shoved him up against the wall, my fists balled in his shirt, before he could say anything else.

"_Sodapop_. My name is _Sodapop_," I snarled at point blank range, as a couple of guys hooted and catcalled behind us. Nobody intervened, they were too busy dragging on their khakis. There were no alliances yet, no buddies to defend. I shook the redhead a little for emphasis. "But you can call me 'Curtis'. Dig?". His bad luck that I hadn't a day when I'd been yelled at so hard since tenth grade, and I'd had my fill and then some.

"Cool it, man," he said, with a grin that seemed genuine. "No sweat. I got it."

I let go and he sat on the bottom bunk, bouncing to test it. As I quickly changed clothes, I was aware of a few sideways looks from further down the room. I wasn't sure what I'd just done, but I had a feeling it hadn't necessarily been the smartest move.

Outside, there was—inevitably—more lining up. _'Forming up'_, whatever the hell difference it made, to call it that. We made two rows of six, officially 'D' squad, with our very own piece of dirt in front of the barracks that matched every other squad's patch; eight of 'em making up the company area, with a bathhouse on the opposite side of the square. As far as I could see, we looked exactly like all the other groups of nervous guys, trying to stand straight in unfamiliar clothes but failing miserably as far as the NCOs' opinions went—the other squads were already getting reamed and shuffling back and forth to make straighter lines, or whatever.

We waited while Sergeant Keller walked slowly past us, his face never shifting from a sneer. Then he stood in front of us, for what seemed like forever because he did it all in complete silence. The kid behind me farted, I assumed from nerves. I was pretty freaked myself, but I kept my game face on, like I was waiting for a rumble to start or something. It made no difference.

"You pathetic bunch of filthy pantywaists!" Once he got started, we were treated to a rundown of exactly how disgusting we were, how not one of us was worthy of the uniform we were wearing and certainly not to be trusted with the fine accommodation that had been provided for us.

The guy was Out. Of. His. Tree; the barrack room was like an oversize chicken shed, the bare dirt around it highlighting a crawlspace that looked like it had been dug into by dogs at some time. I also now saw that it had a metal stovepipe chimney sticking out at the _other_ end to the bed I'd chosen, which might not be good news for overnight heat.

"—_not deserve to use the door like normal human beings_—"

I focused back on Keller. What?

"MOVE!"

Fuck. Of course there ain't no loose dogs on an Army camp, digging underneath buildings or otherwise. _We _were going under, and through, to earn the privilege of using the door again.

The guy in front of me hesitated, reluctant to get down into the hole. That meant I got a thump between the shoulder blades from whoever was behind me. I snarled a threat, but didn't look back because of the yelling to _Move!_ that hadn't let up for a second.

I'd been under our porch when I was a kid, for some plan or other Steve and me dreamed up for a club house, but I wasn't sure I'd be comfortable scrabbling the length of the house on my stomach nowadays. I told myself it was no worse than working under some car, just the other way up is all, as I crawled along using my elbows, but then I cracked my head on a beam and narrowly avoided the boots of the guy in front when he stopped unexpectedly.

"Christ," I snapped, "get out the fucking way."

"I saw a rat," he gasped. "I saw a goddamn rat."

"Well, you wanna stay in here with it, or what?" I slapped his leg, which was all I could reach, and he started moving again.

Panting and shaking, we ran back from the other side of the building and—_surprise, surprise_—formed up. Now our unsatisfactory uniforms were streaked with mud and cobwebs. There was one word from the drill sergeant:

"_Again_."

xxXxx

I woke up with a start, just catching myself from pitching off the edge of the bunk. For the life of me I couldn't remember _why_ Steve had said it was better to have a top bunk. It didn't do me any favors when we had to put the sheets on and get the blankets _just so_—although at least I knew what I was doing, some of these wusses hadn't ever made a bed in their spoiled little lives—and now I was in danger of crashing to the floor every time I rolled over.

But it wasn't that, I realized, that had woken me. It was a noise. The kind of noise I was still tuned to and still woke up for, apparently. Which was a miracle seeing as how I'd been as exhausted as everyone else, after three days of complete fucking madness.

Crawling under the building would be a welcome relief from some of the shit they had us doing now.

The only time we'd sat down so far had been for a classroom lesson on personal hygiene. That had included a slide show on some of the venereal diseases waiting for us, if we went near the hookers apparently lurking right outside the gate. I was pretty sure that was bullshit; I hadn't been paying attention as the bus drove through Lawton, but I'd been here with Steve and Evie that time. There were no hookers on the streets that I saw.

As an especially disgusting inflamed-dick slide clicked into place, the kid next to me retched and clapped his hand over his mouth. I sprang sideways, before he could puke on me and the movement attracted the attention of the NCOs at the back of the room.

"Sarsaparilla, get that sorry excuse for a man outta here, before he disgraces himself!"

I grabbed the kid's arm and drug him from the room, all too aware that—aside from the sniggering at his reaction—more than one guy from another squad whispered, "Why'd he call him that?" _Great_. Fucking great. Now every goddamn comedian in the place was going to come up with irritating fucking things to call me.

At school, I'd taken care of similar problems with my fists. Well, with mine and Steve's, usually in the parking lot or some alley on the way home. Very few kids called me anything stupid more than once. But here, where I'd already discovered anything approaching a fight was punished by push ups and laps or kitchen duty, or both, I wasn't itching to take on half a dozen guys as pissed as I was to be here in the first place.

The kid who'd almost puked sucked in fresh air. I wished I had a weed and a lighter on me. It was almost impossible not to smoke here, with the amount of cigarettes around, but I'd swapped the four in the lunch pack we'd been given yesterday for someone's chocolate bar.

"Thanks," the kid gasped. There was some color coming back into his face. "That w...was really gross."

"Why didn't you just close your eyes?" I snapped. He shrugged.

"I w...wanted to know. I never...I mean...That don't ha...happen _every_ time, does it? I never..."

"Jesus Christ—" He flinched as I cussed. I thought his name was Fielding, Feldman, something like that, but I hadn't spoken to him before. "Jesus Christ. Do yourself a favor and don't tell anyone else that, okay." He'd be dead meat if the guys in the squad found out he was a virgin.

He nodded at me, pathetically grateful. "I'm Jo..Jo..Josiah."

"Soda, but make it 'Curtis'," I said shortly. "And you oughta stick with 'Joe'." Seriously, this kid was circling the drain and he didn't even know it.

I tried to shake him off as the class came out and we all went on to the mess hall. I was having a hard enough time keeping my own head together—Yeah, I felt out of place. Yeah, I hated the constant ordering about and the stupid fucking pointlessness of what we were being ordered to do, but I think generally it was the noise that got to me, more than anything. I would have laughed if you'd told me that would be a problem. I was used to noise. I always had the radio going, at work, in the truck. I liked it when everyone was over at ours, calling from the kitchen or continuing a conversation even when someone left the room. As for the background in the neighborhood, there was traffic, trains—hell, someone on our block had a dog that never shut up barking any time they left the house. Noise didn't bother me. I wasn't someone who needed headspace, _thinking_ space.

Or so I'd believed.

But there were twenty four guys in our room and the same again on the floor above, four squads in all. Nobody was ever alone, not even in the can. There was always someone talking, or dropping something, or banging the door. At one point as I was trying to fall asleep I would willingly have swapped Two-Bit's post-beer snoring for the buzz saw racket from the guy two beds over. Someone clocked him with a pillow before I got up to tackle him myself, but it was close.

When they spooled us through the mess hall, it was the school cafeteria times a thousand. Trays and dishes clattering, the slurping and chomping of countless men. And even then, there was someone yelling at us to hurry up, to get move on; it was less like eating and more like being on one of those loops in a factory that eventually spits out a finished product.

I hadn't understood some of the whining; the food was okay. I'd eaten worse, hell, I'd made worse. But the way some of the complaints sounded, you'd have thought these pricks were being made to eat from garbage cans. Only a couple of guys were like me and shoveled it in without pause—the first day, anyhow. Everyone soon realized that if you didn't eat damn fast, you had to leave it behind and after two days of marching, digging foxholes—and then filling them in for the next sorry bunch to do it all over again—whatever maniac thing was given us to do, everyone was as starving as they were tired. And we were fucking tired. The day started at five and didn't end until lights out at ten.

So why was I awake? What in hell had dragged me out of my much needed sleep?

I scratched my head and was surprised for the hundredth time at the feel of my hair. The first day, after we'd finished scrambling under the barracks and been allowed to use the bath house, I hadn't even seen my dirt streaked face in the mirror; I just looked at my hair and swore under my breath.

"Oh, please." The redheaded guy that I'd had the 'disagreement' with was next to me. "You think you got problems?" He flicked at his ears, which were kind of sticky-out, now that his hair was gone, and grinned at me. I grinned back. I wondered what exactly it would take to rile this guy. He introduced himself as Jeff Morgan and began a long, rambling explanation of where he came from.

As I blinked against the almost darkness—there were no curtains in the barracks—Jeff rolled, the bunk shifting slightly. He was asleep. But then I caught the sound that had woken me, again, and this time I was awake enough to recognize it, even from across the room.

Shit.

No wonder I'd thought it was familiar.

Thing is, if he'd woken _me_ he'd most likely wake someone else. And by the time I got to him, one of the others might notice, might make both of us into tomorrow's hot gossip. One wise ass had already called him my 'little friend', when helping him out of the class hadn't even been my choice. There were lines being drawn, allegiances being made, I couldn't afford to be lumped in with the mis-fits.

I heard him again.

Shit.

I slid to the ground, as quietly as I could. Crossed the room.

He was next to a window and I could see that he was—as I'd suspected—crying in his sleep.

"Joe," I hissed, shaking his arm gently. "Chill. It's just a bad dream." His eyes opened and he stared up at me. He looked nothing like Pony and his eyes were blue. I held up my hand to signal him to keep quiet and I started to pad back to bed.

I wasn't half way before I heard the acid stage-whisper, from the guy who slept on Joe's top bunk. I couldn't tell which of us he was directing it to, as he sneered:

_"Faggot."_

* * *

**A/N: I completely forgot to add this, when I first posted: Just like when I wrote about Steve's experience, I have relied heavily on real memoirs from draftees. So, yes, the repeated 'crawling under the barracks' really happened. And no, I have no idea how it makes a better soldier! It did, however instill a complete fear of the drill sergeant, which was the main intention, I guess...**


	22. Chapter 22

**Jo**

"So, how you doing?" asked Evie, handing me a coffee and sitting on the floor next to Jay. He was playing with some toy cars, turning them upside down one by one and spinning the wheels enthusiastically.

I told her I was okay and it sounded nearly true. I'd stopped by at her place, on my way home from work, because she called and asked me to. Otherwise, I was pretty much going through the motions, dividing the last few days between work and home. Time, I'd discovered, split itself into three meals and eight hours sleep, without me needing to be actively involved in making any of those things happen; Aunt Emma kept me ticking over at home, Lynette was covering most everything at work.

Evie smiled over at me. "You know Steve said Basic was boring as hell? It'll be a walk in the park for Soda." I could see she believed this. Shame I didn't quite have her faith that everything Steve said was Gospel truth. Maybe that showed in my expression, because she went on, "Hey. I know you get the best side of him. _The lover_, not _the fighter_ an' all that—" she winked "—but y'know Soda's plenty tough, don'tcha?"

I wasn't sure how tough you'd have to be though, not to be harmed by bullets or bombs.

Taking advantage of the way Jay was engrossed in his toys, Evie curled up in the armchair and downed most of her own drink; I'd heard her complain that these days she never got to eat anything while it was hot because Jay invariably demanded attention at the wrong moment.

"So..." she drew out the word suggestively. "On that subject, _the lover_, etc. etc. _That_ night. _Your_ night. I haven't gotten you on your own since then. Are you going to spill, or not? Was it how you wanted it to be?"

"It was real surprising," I said, deliberately misunderstanding her and holding out my engagement ring. "I never expected this at all."

"Jo!"

"Evie!" I pointed at Jay. "I can't say in front of him."

"He's fourteen months old, I ain't sure he understands when I tell him it's lunchtime! An' he surely ain't gonna repeat anything you say..." She gave me a searching look. "At least tell me it was okay. I mean, y'all waited a fair while." She actually looked a little worried, I thought. "It _was_ okay? 'Cause it was just one night, you was both under pressure, it doesn't have to mean—"

"_Stop_. It _was_...'okay'...it was better than 'okay', it was..." I felt myself go from embarrassed to coy, back around to embarrassed, as I couldn't help myself from both smiling and blushing at the memory of that night.

For some reason relief washed over my friend's face, but I never got the chance to find out exactly why because she laughed and said, "Well now, _'better than okay'_, I guess I shoulda known you was in safe hands—Oh! That is...I don't mean..."

This time_ I_ laughed at _her_. "I do know that Soda's been with other girls, you know."

Evie pulled a face. "Oh, sure. Okay."

"But he's mine now."

"Yup." She smiled. "I do believe he is."

Jay held out one of his cars to me, babbling a string of words. Only one made any sense, as he waved the tiny truck between me and the door. He hauled himself up and over to me. "Soda!" he said again clearly.

"Sorry, honey." I grabbed him into a hug on my lap. "Soda can't play 'cars' right now." I guessed we kind of came as a pair, in his mind. For sure most times he saw me, he saw Soda too. I made some vroom vroom noises and span the wheels for Jay and he seemed happy enough. But then, he didn't understand any of it. I envied him.

Then I gave myself a mental slap. The effect of the draft on this little boy would be way worse than it was for me, or Evie, or anyone who could write back and forth with the person they missed. Jay wouldn't know his own daddy when he came back home, any more than he would remember me if I went away for two years. Any more than he was going to know Soda.

I tried to think of something else we could talk about. I told Evie I had news from home. "My sister's 'expecting'."

"Yeah? They didn't waste no time."

I shrugged. Audrey had been married for nearly six months. The only weird thing, to my way of thinking, was the fact that she was all the way down in Texas. She'd sent a photo of the base housing at Amarillo, and she seemed happy. And why wouldn't she be? Cole was some kind of training instructor now, he wasn't going overseas again, as long as there was a supply of guys like Soda to do it for him.

I sighed. Even I could see this situation was turning me into a nasty bitch. _Somebody_ had to do the training, same as _somebody_ had to do all the different jobs, in the Army, Air Force or Navy. And actually, that was a good thought; if Soda spent two years in a military kitchen, making eggs and doing dishes, it would be better than his being sent to the jungle. Wouldn't it?

"You think there's a chance Soda might get a post here, at home?" _Somebody_ had to keep things ticking over at Fort Sill, didn't they? Do the laundry, even.

Evie chewed her lip. "Honest? I doubt it. Steve said it was the bookbusters got the choice specialisms. Said if you could carry a gun, that was your qualification."

"Yeah, but—" I was still thinking about all the back room stuff, not the roles you'd need classroom smarts for.

"Jo." Evie cut across me. "You ain't doing yourself any favors, you gotta accept it as a done deal. Y'know it's only the Soc assholes who can swing it to stay here in the National Guard, or whatever. If it was easy to get out of going, half the North side boys would still be here."

I felt sick with shame. You didn't have to be a Soc to have the draft board on your side. I imagined some future day when Soda would tell Steve why none of the Harrison boys had tales of being in uniform to share with them.

"Here's the thing..." I started, watching Evie's face carefully as I told her about my brothers. She sat real still.

"Wow." She put her coffee mug down very precisely, on a coaster printed with the branding _'AK Asphalting'. _She'd been talking about getting some groovy new ones, but must not have had either the money or the time. The smile she gave me when she looked up was watery but her tone was steady. "That's real lucky. You must be relieved for them. And that's so good, for your mom."

She was freaking tough, my friend Evie.

If I hadn't had a sleepy toddler curled up in my lap, I would have hugged her. Jay was always good as a diversionary tactic too, and this time it was Evie who shifted the conversation—slightly—by indicating how comfortable he was.

"That suits you. Any time you wanna get some practice in, for Sodapop Junior, you just let me know."

I winced. "Yeah. I think 'Sodapop' may be a onetime thing."

"Ha." She wrinkled her nose, thinking. "Weird, ain't it, how you don't hear it like a word, no more, when you know him? It ain't like he's called 'Armchair' or 'Skillet' or something that makes no sense. I'm more likely to think of _him_, when someone's talking about the _drink_, than the other way around."

That was true. "Still beats me why," I said.

"The pair of 'em, him and Pony." Evie nodded. "You ever notice, whenever anyone asks them how come they're called what they're called, they never give the same answer twice? I have a sneaking suspicion they don't know for sure."

I thought about that. It was true, I had heard Soda amuse himself a couple of times with different explanations for his name. I'd just assumed that what he'd told me, on our first date, was the definitive version.

_"Oh," I'd responded in surprise. "I figured it was a nickname."_

_"Nah. My dad had a bet going with a couple of guys he worked with, that he would put it on my birth certificate. He got fifty bucks all told, for me. But nobody would take the action, when it came to Ponyboy."_

I told Evie the story of the bet.

"So why'd he go through with calling Pony,'Pony'?" she scoffed. "'Sides, from what I hear, their daddy was kind of fun, like Soda. Maybe he just did it for the hell of it."

Maybe.

xxXxx

Darry asked me over, to Sunday dinner at their place and I was too embarrassed to say, _No_. To say that it near enough killed me to go to the house and not have Soda there. But I knew the two of them would be missing him something awful and I didn't want to add my bad vibes to whatever downer they were on. So I stuck on a smile and I went.

The second I walked in I was hit with the impulse to run into Soda's room and see if his pillows smelled of him—I had a T shirt of his at home, I'd asked him for it before he went. But I was afraid that it was already losing the scent of Soda's cologne and Soda's skin, because I spent so much time holding it. I wished I could ask for his pillows.

Instead, I thanked Darry for inviting me and as he and Pony headed for the kitchen, I asked what I could do to help. Darry told me to sit down, that he had it all under control.

"I can't do that," I blurted and saw him blink in surprise. "I can't be a 'guest' here, not for the next two years. That's too weird. I'd rather not come over, if that's how it's gonna be."

Ponyboy's eyebrows shot up, but he waited for Darry's response.

Soda's big brother smiled slowly. "Well, okay. Let me rephrase that. The food's about done, I genuinely don't need any help with that, this time. Come over earlier next week, you wanna help. For now, you can set the table." He jerked his thumb at the cabinet where they kept the plates.

I nodded. "Okay, then."

"Result!" Ponyboy sloped off, back to the TV.

"Yeah. You get to clean up," Darry called after him, shooting me a wink.

Over dinner, we got talking about Soda's upcoming birthday. He'd been the one, back in April, to insist that everyone 'partied' for Steve, even though Steve wasn't here. He'd apparently told Pony to do the same, for him.

I wished aloud that I could go down to Fort Sill, somehow see Soda, for his birthday.

"What you thinking of doing, throwing a cake over the wall?" Ponyboy rolled his eyes.

"He ain't in prison," I retorted. Then sighed. "No. I know it's a long shot. I just thought, if maybe he got to take an hour off..."

Darry pulled a sympathetic face. "I don't think it works like that."

No. It didn't.

By the time Soda's birthday came and went, he'd been gone two weeks. I'd written him four times and had one letter and one—it was so short it could only be called a 'note'—back. Pony and Darry had a shared letter. It pretty much replicated what Soda had said to me, we discovered when we compared details; he was eating okay, his uniform didn't fit so well, but we weren't to worry, everything was cool.

"I don't think they have a lot of time to write." Darry sounded like he was trying to make me feel better. Or maybe himself.

Pony snorted. "Lucky we got anything at all then! He never was quick at writing." He mimed someone chewing on the end of a pen and gazing aimlessly around the room. Darry clipped him around the back of the head as they went back into the kitchen.

They weren't as quiet as they thought they were.

"See?" Pony hissed. "He told her the thing about the uniform too."

"It doesn't mean what you—"

"_Bullshit_, Darry. You know what I heard, what I told you people are saying. They're sending 'em out there with substandard equipment. You think I care whether his _shirt_ fits him? I wanna know he's got a proper helmet, a decent flak jacket. A gun that fucking _fires_..."

When they came out, they pretended everything was normal and I pretended I hadn't heard them.

When the next Sunday came around, I didn't show them Soda's latest letter, I let them think it was mushy, romantic stuff and I was too embarrassed. I strongly suspected that the draft was making excellent liars of us all.

I could have told them exactly what Soda had written. I knew it off by heart.

_Hey Jo _

_I reckon Steve didn't tell us everything and I think that's because it's pretty ruff here. I understand why. He might of thought it would worry Evie and anyone who might have to come here one day, like me or maybe Two-Bit. But you made me promise to tell you everything. So just don't tell anyone else this, OK Honey? I don't like it much, and I wish I was home with you. But there's others worse off. There's this kid here (I call him a kid but I found out he's a month older than me but he seems way young) and he ain't doing so good. He cries a lot and he can't do hardly any of the stuff we have to do. They will still pass him. We got told someone else will have to do his firing test because he can't shoot straight but they will still send him to Viet-Nam_. _I think that's worse than sending me and Steve because at least we can fight. I'm glad Dad showed me how to use a gun, I'm okay at that and I don't mind some of the stuff but we have to do a whole lot of running and marching. I guess Pony would think the running was easy, but I ain't so good at it, what with my knee and all. (__Espeshally__ don't tell Darry that.) But we get choclate everyday, so that's good._

_I miss you Jo. I wish I was home with you. I said that alredy but I mean it twice. _

_All my love, Sodapop_

* * *

**A/N: Cookies to Josefin. Typo corrected! :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Soda**

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but I sure did find it funny that some of the guys in the squad hadn't ever touched a gun before. Maybe I goofed around some when Dad took us hunting, but at least I wasn't scared to pick up a weapon and I knew how to handle it; even some of the ones who could shoot had no idea when it came to stripping the equipment down. I thought about all the carburetors me and Steve had tackled, remembered him saying how Basic was like remedial auto mechanics.

'Course I was coming around to the idea that a lot of what Steve had said was bullshit of the highest order. Steve could sleep like a dead man, there was no way he'd enjoyed the schedule they had us on—up at five freaking a.m. every damn day, running God knows how many miles before breakfast and then every single minute filled with someone else's idea of a day well spent. No way.

But I didn't blame him for not saying exactly how shitty it was. What would've been the point? He didn't know I was coming after him, but it wasn't something you'd want to lay on anyone at home. It'd be like admitting you couldn't hack it. I trusted Jo not to take it that way—but I still wrote her that I 'didn't like it', not that it was the toughest thing I'd ever done. I wished I'd let Darry nag me into joining him at the gym sometimes, or that I'd built up some running stamina, like Pony. I had a suspicion that even Steve must have found the pace tough.

One thing that wouldn't have bothered Steve though, in the way it started to bother me, was the goddamn classroom lessons. And not how I might've expected, neither. Yeah, there were some written tests, math and other shit. Yeah, I probably stuffed those up, like every other test I ever took. But the other stuff, the lectures we had to sit through? I couldn't stop my head taking the information and applying it to Steve. Because—no matter that they tried to make us say 'police action'—what they talked about was being in a fucking war and he was already fucking there.

"_Apply pressure to the wound…"_

"_If you are taken prisoner, give out nothing but your name and rank…"_

It seemed like it all had nothing to with me, but everything to do with Steve.

And the official classes were nothing, compared to the stories that the NCOs told. Not the career soldiers like Sergeant Keller, but the guys seeing out their time, the ones who'd done their year in Vietnam and had the end of their draft in sight. If 'training us' was meant to be telling us about the heat, the sunburn, or the 'fact' that we'd be getting the shits so bad there wouldn't be time to dig the fancy latrines the brass had us practicing, then they were training us good. One guy had scars up his arms from a tent fire; another had been shot in the shoulder and gave detailed descriptions of the bugs that fed on his blood, while he waited all night to be Evacced out.

"…_so don't be thinking Uncle Sam's gonna swoop right in and rescue you, they'll come when they're good and ready. And you'd better hope your buddy didn't use his bandages for toilet paper and you didn't waste your morphine on getting high…"_

No matter how hard I tried, it was Steve I saw in those situations. I didn't think he would shoot up his morphine supply for the hell of it, but I could imagine him trading it for smokes, if he ran low. And then he'd be the one lying there all night with bullet holes in him and no helicopter coming and…

I wasn't the only one thinking like that, I knew. Hell, two guys in the bunkhouse had brothers over there already. One had lost a cousin just last year. In the time since Sylvia's kid brother's funeral there had been three more boys from the neighborhood with their pictures in the paper and their caskets in the ground. I didn't know them, but I thought about them, wondered if they'd been last in the squad to get their rifle stripped and rebuilt, like Joe. Or if they'd been last on the obstacle course.

Like me.

I leaned over the edge of the bunk, asked Jeff if he had any aspirin. We had about ten minutes until lights out and most everyone was either in bed already or yakking quietly in groups around someone else's bunk.

"You serious? I just gave you my last ones at lunch." He stood up, so we could talk without every man in the room hearing us. "Is it bad again, man? You want me to go ask Sears?"

I wished I could ask him to do that, but then he'd be the one with a 'debt' to Sears—whose name was actually Mikkelson, but who managed to be the barracks' own human catalog; anything you need, no questions asked, money up front or favors owed—and I couldn't put that on Jeff.

Cursing the top bunk for the millionth time, I slid down, making sure to land on my left leg.

Sears was in his 'office', the lobby, with a guy from the upstairs room whining about the mark up on smokes. I checked out his face, for another time. The real nicotine addicts were always up for swapping their chocolate bars. The C ration stuff wasn't great, but it was better than nothing and so far I'd kept my promise to Jo to stay off the weeds. Couldn't be sure I'd keep at it, if the candy bars dried up, though.

When it was my turn, Sears smirked. "What can I say, man? You cleaned me out the other day. No aspirin until Saturday. I can lay something stronger on you, if you like."

"Like what? And how much?"

He clicked his tongue on his teeth, like he was considering. "Half a bottle Percocet for a ten spot. Can't say fairer than that."

I told him to fuck off and he took it well enough, although he needled me with, "I heard we got the wall again tomorrow..." He cocked his head, listening to the rain pounding down. "Should be nice and slippery out there. But, it's your choice, Curtis."

"I ain't got ten." I didn't. I'd arranged for my pay to be sent home to Darry, I only drew a couple of bucks for myself. There was nothing to spend it on, we weren't allowed into Lawton yet. Besides ten bucks was crazy dough. 'Half a bottle' might mean only a few pills.

"You can always wander over to the sick bay." And be held back, start over, with new guys and the same old shit. He smirked again. "Five and shine my boots for a week."

"Three and three days."

"You're killing me, man." But he handed over the pills. Probably had someone else doing his boots for the rest of the week, anyway.

I let myself limp, in the barracks. No one was going to rat me out, I wasn't the only guy carrying an injury. It was tough enough hiding the pain in my knee from the staff. Some nights, if they'd had us marching with full packs, it swelled up so that I could hardly bend it.

I wondered sometimes if I could've made it flare up real bad, before the MEPS, before induction. If it would have been enough to get me out of all this. But then I remembered Andy Reed. And Trey. And everything Steve said, when his number came up. Why shouldn't I go? Besides, maybe I'd be the name on a list that kept someone else off the bottom…someone like Two-Bit, or God forbid, Pony. Or Darry—I wasn't stupid, I knew that when Pony turned eighteen, Darry's exemption would expire. Maybe they all wouldn't have to ever be drafted, because I'd filled some quota on some government form somewhere.

Someone—probably Sears—had scratched off most of the label on the bottle, including whatever came after 'Mrs. L—'s' name, but I could make out something about 'twice a day'. Two pills, twice a day? It didn't seem like a lot. I swallowed two right away.

xxXxx

_Hey, Soda, I'mma save you a nice warm beer, yeah? Get yourself through the fucking shitstorm of Sill and onto a mobile unit – I ain't allowed to write where I am, exactly, but you get yourself on a M107 crew and chances are, we'll be in the same 'hood. Be like old times, buddy, see if we don't tear up this fucking place. _

Shit.

I could hardly bear to read the rest of Steve's letter. It had probably arrived a couple of days ago, then bounced from the barracks to here. Maybe it was even Jeff who'd got it to me. I'd been pretty spaced, on whatever they pumped into me, and had only seen it when I woke up today.

It had taken six weeks for my news to reach Steve and for him to send this back. Even if I got around to writing him today, which wasn't going to happen, he would spend the best part of another month thinking I was joining him soon.

Shit.

The door to the ward opened and I shoved the letter back inside the envelope. Since some kid with pneumonia got transferred earlier that morning, I was the only one in here. Whoever was coming in, was coming in for me.

Army doctors, I'd discovered, are like doctors all over; they talk about you like you ain't right there in front of them. The main difference is, they're also officers, so they got the power over your life and death in two freaking ways.

'Five weeks wasted' that's what this one was going to tell me, once he got done pointing at my knee and telling the junior officer/doctors that I wasn't a goddamn liar when I said I couldn't walk on it...

_I could actually taste the mud from where I'd hit the dirt. The explosion of pain in my knee seemed to be anesthetizing my hearing though, because I just couldn't make myself care about Keller's screaming: "Get the fuck up, Sarsaparilla."_

_Jeff hauled on my arm. "Curtis, c'mon, man. He ain't shitting. You gotta move." _

_I made it up on my left leg, but even trying to bend my right knee sent me back down to the ground. I'd never passed out before and part of me wondered if the black spots in front of my eyes meant that was about to happen. I tried to tell Jeff to leave me, he didn't need to be included in the shit that was going to be heaped at my door for blowing the fucking obstacle course again._

_But: "S..S..Soda?" Unbelievably, it was Joe who put himself between me and the screaming mountain that was Sergeant Keller. "Leave him alone! He isn't fooling! He's h..h..hurt!"_

And in three days, the two of them would be done with Basic and onto AIT and I'd be starting over with a new bunch of guys. Whatever the doc said now was irrelevant, I'd been here in the hospital for half a week, I'd missed too much—including the final firing rounds—to 'graduate' with my squad.

Shit.

"...early diagnosis...no improvement...X-rayed yesterday..." _Yadda, yadda, yadda. Gimme the pills and send me back to Keller's tender care._ "...complete tear...no useful range of movement...surgery option..." _Wait. What? _

As I opened my mouth, one of the junior white coats did the asking for me. "So, what you're saying, sir, is that even with surgery, the results won't be combat compatible?"

He shook his head, looking fairly pissed about that. "'Compromised mobility', Lieutenant, sufficient for immediate downgrading—"

"What?" I said out loud, this time. "I mean, what, _sir_?"

Finally, his eyes left the chart in his hand and he looked me in the face. "You're going home, Private. Medically discharged. The damage is to your knee is probably irreversible and certainly limiting, and you are now officially 4-F."

I replayed his words in my head, in case I'd misunderstood. "Home?"

"There was previous scarring to the bone, so I'm assuming this wasn't the first time you'd damaged your knee? Football injury?"

"Rodeo," I said absently. Thinking. Thinking.

He rolled his eyes, like that was particularly annoying to him. I suppose from a bone doctor's point of view, rodeos are pretty much like voluntary car crashes. They must make plenty of dough out of 'em, though. Although maybe not in the Army.

Five weeks wasted, is what I'd thought. Back classed, starting over.

_Holy_ shit.

"I'm 4-F?" I looked at each of their faces, to check this wasn't some lousy joke. One of the young ones gave me an encouraging nod. The old guy, the top dog, practically threw my notes at a nurse who came in, told her to organize a cast—the first time I'd realized what I was in for—and see to whatever paperwork would get me out of his hospital, quickest.

"Can I make a phone call?" I asked her, when we were alone. She was scarier than all the doctors put together, about forty years old and she outranked me by a mile, but I could care less by then. When I smiled at her, it felt rusty, like I hadn't used the expression in a while.

Still worked, though.

xxXxx

You ain't never seen anything more stupid than half a pair of pants; but cutting off the right leg was the only way they would fit over my cast. It was an orderly that helped me get dressed. Although by that point I was so tired from a week of no sleep—first from the pain that woke me up when I moved, second from a night without being able to turn over at all—that I didn't care who saw me in my scivvies.

Besides, I was pretty sure that I was so doped up on pain meds the first day some nurse had helped me pee in a bottle, so people looking at my underwear was probably the least of it.

They cut up an old pair of fatigues, even though I hadn't had to send my own threads home, like Steve did. I didn't want to think about sacrificing any of my jeans, once I was home. _Home._ That word was like a beacon to me. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine I was there already. And then the bus would hit a bump in the road and I'd be back to reality.

Who knew getting on a bus could be so freaking difficult?

It took the best part of a day to get the paperwork done. That meant hopping with my crutches from office to office, getting forms stamped and signed. Some corporal in a Jeep took pity on me and gave me a lift into Lawton—the barracks and everything was a good couple of miles from the gate. I'd likely have been hopping all night.

Waiting on the bus as it was getting dark, I heard whooping and realized someone was calling my name. Jeff and Josiah appeared in front of me.

"Thought you'd already gone, man." Jeff pulled a face at the cast. "We got a pass. Not even Ol' Killer could say we didn't deserve it, huh? Time to get J..J..Joe good and dr..dr..drunk." He grabbed Joe, who looked nervous, in a headlock. I told Jeff to go easy on him.

"C...Can I write you?" asked Joe.

I told him sure and scribbled the address on a scrap of paper. _Home_.

The bus pulled up and they fought over who would put my bag on. I wrangled the crutches as best I could and they helped me to a seat near the front. A couple of other guys in uniform got on, and an old lady over the aisle gave me a sympathetic smile.

When we got into Oklahoma City, one of the guys was right there, taking my bag, even though I didn't know him. I had to bite my lip getting down the steps because I knocked the cast.

Neither of the soldiers and no one else in uniform was headed for Tulsa. There was a two hour wait, but I didn't think I could make it to the cafeteria, so I sat on the nearest bench, checking the bus station clock, not for the connection, but for when I could safely take another pill. The lecture from the older nurse was still fresh in my mind.

She must've been the one who undressed me, because she'd found my stash in my pocket. When she was talking me through aftercare for my cast, she told me so:

"Listen, kid, I hope you know that I could've got you in a world of trouble over those Percocet? Stick to your own prescription, okay?"

I protested that I was just trying to get by.

She snorted. "I've seen more guys fall down that rabbit hole than you'd believe. I'm not saying you have to be a martyr. But you get hooked on 'em, you're never getting rid of the pain, 'cause it's just going to bounce back and bite you harder."

"Hooked? Who's hooked? I just wanted to get through the damn obstacle course."

"And how'd that work out? You pushed yourself past the point of no return, kid. Your knee is wrecked, you get that? Did you understand what the doc said? There's no coming back from this."

"He said something about surgery..."

"You got the money for that?" She didn't bother to pause for an answer. "Okay. You need to think about two things here. Firstly, remember that even surgery isn't a guaranteed fix and could leave you worse off. Secondly—" for some reason she looked over her shoulder, although there was nobody coming in the door "—_and I never told you this..._ You might try for compensation."

"I only did five weeks! I ain't even been in action. 'Sides, the doctor knows my knee was already bad."

"Don't matter." She told me 'aggravated' came a close second to 'caused', when it came to injuries in the line of duty. I couldn't believe that. 'Injuries in the line of duty' was the kind of thing we got schooled on – _'Apply pressure to the wound...'_ and all that. Surely my pay out was that I wouldn't be facing anything like that?

All I had to face was how the hell to tell Steve that I wasn't joining him.

"Have you been shooting at civilians?"

I looked up at the hippie chick scowling down at me. I was dressed in a weird combination of the half fatigues and a white undershirt under one of my own shirts. But, I guess the pants and the haircut were enough to mark me out. Plus I'd been allowed to keep a khaki duffle, which was looped over one of my crutches.

"I hope you got hurt before you killed any babies," the chick said pleasantly, dropping a leaflet into my lap before she walked away. _'You can bomb the world to pieces. You can't bomb for Peace_...' was splashed across the side I could see.

I watched her weave through the crowd, handing out her colorful bits of paper.


	24. Chapter 24

**Jo**

There was a girl I knew back home who swore up and down that her mother could tell when she lost her cherry. Said she walked 'like a woman' or some such. I didn't believe that for a second. And when I went home for Christmas I wasn't worried. Well, not much.

Besides, it happened in September and hadn't happened since, so it wasn't like I was still blushing all over the place.

Soda was a terrible patient; being in a cast drove him to distraction. He was forever forgetting and trying to leap up from the couch to fetch a drink, or a snack or something. Not being able to dash from room to room wore on his nerves something awful and then he wore on everyone else's, but no one complained of course. We were all so damn happy to have him home.

Even Evie tried to be glad, although I knew it had to be killing her inside.

But between his brothers needing physical proof that Soda was home and safe—usually that meant they wanted to be in the same room as him—and the unwieldy cast, plus the fact that he wanted to babysit Jay as often as possible, Soda and I hadn't had any opportunity to be 'alone'.

Truthfully, I felt a little silly. My grand gesture had been about the fact that he was going away to war, for a long time. I wasn't exactly sure whether we'd just automatically turned into people who had sex now, or whether the 'waiting' was back in play, even though we were engaged.

It even got so that sometimes the guys would take Jay and I'd end up spending time with Evie, which was fine, and nice for her to get a little conversation that didn't come from a toddler or Two-Bit, but didn't get me and Soda any closer. Evie teased me when I tried to explain that it seemed like we'd lost our intimacy and she said something about genies not fitting back into bottles. The problem of the cast didn't faze her either, she just laughed. "Glory, Jo, what's stopping you going on top?"

Okay, so maybe I wasn't quite done with the blushing.

But I was worried there was more going on than just the sex issue. I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but Soda seemed kind of distant in general. We'd all been so geared up for a two year separation, the idea that we would have to re-establish our relationship, after what turned out to be a relatively short time apart, would never even have occurred to me.

And, at first, the high of finding out that he was coming home masked any negative thoughts pretty effectively.

I was crossing the loading dock that day, having delivered a problem invoice to the guy who was supposed to keep the stock topped up. Usually Lynette took any opportunity to get out of the office that she could, but she was making coffee for this paint salesman who kept trying to convince Uncle Jim to carry a different brand of house paint.

I'd seen Ponyboy to call hello to, inside, but he'd been stacking a load of boxes and he didn't stop to do more than wave at me. Uncle Jim hadn't needed any persuading to take him on for part time work, he just said he hoped Pony was as good a worker as his big brother. Uncle Jim was a fan of Darry's; one time I'd eavesdropped on him and Aunt Emma, and heard him compare Darry to my cousin Kathleen's husband and Darry had come out better.

As far as I knew Pony was a hard worker too; he took a couple of shifts after school most weeks, saving for college—although he still seemed undecided about whether he was going sooner or later. He smiled at me as I went past and although it wasn't—_couldn't be_—an exact replica, it was enough of a reminder of Soda that I was biting my lip as I headed back to the office.

Pony's shift wasn't due to finish, so I was surprised to see Darry, practically exploding out of his truck. Even more so when I realized he was grinning fit to bust; like he might burst into song, or something crazy. I couldn't remember ever seeing quite that expression on his face. Even his voice sounded different, when he asked me if I knew where his kid brother was.

When I pointed and told him which section, he grinned some more—really, it was getting freaky—and grabbed my hand, pulling me with him despite my protests that I had work to do. I guess Pony's face was about as puzzled as mine when he saw the two of us.

And then, in between the kitchen and bathroom wall tiles, Darry told us that Soda was coming home. I don't even know what kind of noise I made. He could've thrown me into the lake on a hundred degree day and it wouldn't have been such a shock.

"For real?" Pony kept saying, even though it wasn't the kind of thing anyone, let alone Darry, would joke about.

I opened my mouth without thinking and asked if Soda's knee had given out.

Darry gave me a steady second of appraisal. "Looks that way."

"When?" Pony moved past disbelief and onto details. "When will he be back?"

"I don't know. He didn't know. It was kind of a quick phone call. Honey," Darry smiled apologetically at me, "he said he'll try to call you at home tonight, if he can."

"Is anyone working in this damn place today?" Uncle Jim rounded the end of the shelves behind Pony. He got an answer from all three of us at once. StereoPlus. He rubbed his chin as he absorbed the news. "Well, that's just dandy. Almost enough to make me wanna pay people for doing nothing." He winked at us, as Pony immediately picked up a box of tiles and moved it onto the—wrong—shelf. A giggle bubbled out of me at the thought of someone with corncob-embossed tiles in their bathroom.

As I floated off, back towards the office, I heard Uncle Jim ask Darry, even though he wasn't rostered on, if he would take a look at the mess Luther had made with the drywall ordering. I really was floating too, I nearly bumped into the new guy—well, the old new guy, Uncle Jim knew him before I worked there, and had given him a job when he came back from Vietnam. I smiled at him, probably for the first time; he'd always made me nervous, with his scarred face and melted ear.

Lynette was crashing coffee cups around in the sink; we had to use the bathroom for water, seeing as there wasn't a real kitchen attached to the office. Uncle Jim let us designate this 'the ladies' room' and he used whatever facilities the guys had, in the warehouse. Usually we left the dishes though, until there were two of us around, because otherwise no one was covering the phone line.

"Why's Darry here?" Lynette snapped. She must have seen the truck pull in. I told her why he'd come by, waiting for her to be as surprised and pleased as the rest of us. She stared at me. "Wow. That's cool. So, is he coming up to see me, or not?"

I told her about Uncle Jim snagging Darry to check on something, and the phone rang before I could reassure her that he wasn't ignoring her. There was every chance I repeated solid gold nonsense to every client and customer for the rest of that day. All I could think about was Soda. Coming home.

He called that night, just when I'd about given up hope.

_"Whoa," _he laughed, when I finally let him get a word in edgewise,_ "I'm okay, I promise. It's all good, baby. I'mma see you soon."_

'Soon' was all the detail he could give, but even if he'd appeared on my doorstep the very next second, it wouldn't have felt soon enough. When Ponyboy called and said Darry was on his way to the bus station, two days later, I was half way to their house before it occurred to me that Soda hadn't asked me to pick him up and Darry hadn't swung by to get me either.

I didn't need to watch their driveway for the pick up's return; Ponyboy did that for me. He stared out the window for the forty five minutes we waited, almost motionless, leaning over the back of the couch, although he batted back whatever conversation I sent his way. I straightened the place, including Soda's bedroom, even though I could see that someone had already done it, already put on clean sheets and extra pillows.

Just when it got to the point where it was physically hurting to wait, the tension in me making it hard to breathe, Pony leaped up from the couch, yelling, "They're here."

We stood in the doorway as Darry helped Soda out of the truck. He slung Soda's arm over his own shoulders and half carried him up the porch steps, while Soda dragged a crutch along. There was an awkward moment when both Pony and I moved forward to hug him, but Darry grunted, "Lemme get him in," and we all ended up inside.

Soda sank down onto the couch, with a wince. Pony hugged him and then Soda was holding out his arms to me. I folded myself next to him, cuddling into him, burying my face in his neck and not, not, not crying. I felt the air go out of his chest as he exhaled slowly and knew he was keeping himself in check too.

"Jeez, look at your hair, man." Pony whistled.

"Yeah. I guess you and me still get a crack at the bathroom mirror," said Darry, with a smile. But his voice was tense and I knew why.

I sat back and looked at Soda carefully. Not at his hair, but at the shadows and the strain lines around his eyes, the almost grey tint to his skin.

"You look like you need to sleep for a week," I told him. "You need to go to bed."

Soda looked from his cast to the hallway and took a breath like he was gearing up for a marathon. "Yeah," he muttered.

Darry reached down again, lifting Soda's arm. "C'mon, bud. Once you're there you don't have to move again for as long as you like."

Soda needed a bathroom stop, which nearly turned into an argument with Darry, because Soda insisted on getting away from him and wrangling his crutches, saying he didn't need his big brother to help him pee. And then there was another awkward moment, with the bunch of us in his bedroom, as he realized he did in fact need help to get undressed. If we'd done what Steve and Evie did, and gotten married before he left, I assume that job would have been down to me. As it was, Darry went all Puritan and made me go back to the living room while he helped Soda with his pants.

I headed for the kitchen instead, setting a tray with a glass of chocolate milk, a bottle of beer, the sandwich I'd started making when Pony was holding vigil at the window and a plate of cookies that Aunt Em had sent over.

There was a scraping and bumping back in Soda's room and I found that Darry had pushed the two single beds together, because they were kind of narrow and Soda's cast was kind of cumbersome. Pony was throwing down a double sized quilt as I set the tray down and Soda flashed me a grateful smile. He thanked me, a huge yawn punctuating the words, then he raised his eyebrows at his brothers.

"You guys maybe wanna give us a moment?" He made a shooing movement and they left the room, reluctantly. Soda pointed at the duffle leaning against his dresser. "Can you look in the pocket, honey? I got some pills."

I found the bottle and handed it to him, but he put it down on the night stand without opening it, saying he just wanted to know they were there if he needed them. He held out his hand to me and I cuddled next to him.

"I think I'm afraid to wake up," he said, "in case I'm dreaming this."

"Nope," I gave him a gentle kiss. "You're home."

He didn't reply, because he was asleep.

xxXxx

As quickly as the first few days went past, so the first weeks disappeared. Thanksgiving had more emotion attached to it, for sure; the way I felt, being thankful that Soda didn't have to go to Vietnam might be my main thought every time I saw a turkey for the rest of my life.

I was really torn at Christmas. Mom wanted me home and since Audrey was making the trip she'd had to postpone in November, I wanted to be there. But I wanted to be with Soda too and he said he wasn't up to the drive. It would've been funny, under other circumstances, to point out how he swung from one extreme to the other, when it came to his knee—See, if he wanted to do something, he bitched about being mollycoddled and babied, and demanded to able to do it; if he didn't, then his 'knee hurt' or the cast made it too difficult and he generally got out of whatever it was being asked of him.

When Soda refused to come up to the farm, even though his cast was due to be taken off right around Christmas, I took it as a sign he didn't want to be with me. I let him know I wasn't happy. And then I spent the whole drive up, on the day before Christmas Eve, regretting that we parted under a cloud.

I parked up and crossed the porch. Mom and Chris were in the kitchen and she let out a yelp when she saw me, dragging me into a hug. "Jojo! There you are. I was starting to wonder." I stared. It wasn't like Mom to stress so.

"Why? I said I'd be here around dinner time. Where's Aud?"

Chris snickered. "Mom thought you'd put your car in a ditch."

She shrugged, turning back to stir something on the stove top. "Your sister's napping. I wasn't really worried about you. It's just that Soda called so many times. I thought maybe he was worried."

So _many _times?

"Yeah, like three times already. Like every ten minutes since you could possibly have arrived..." Chris looked over at the clock on the wall. And damn if the phone didn't start to ring, right then. Chris burst into laughter. "There he goes!"

I snatched up the receiver, stretching the cord into the hallway.

_"Jo?_"

I said Hi.

Soda said, "_Hey now_."

"Is something up? You've been calling?"

"_Just the usual._"

I waited a second before asking what 'usual' he was talking about.

"_Me. The usual me. The usual stupid_." My heart melted. "_I miss you_," he said. "_I love you. I'm sorry I was a dick_."

"I love you too," I said, well aware that Mom, Chris, and probably Audrey upstairs, were hanging on my every word.

_"I was thinking, maybe, if it's still okay, I could come up. After Christmas. I get the feeling Pony's gonna ditch an' I don't wanna leave Darry."_

"You ain't driving yet."

_"Nah. If I can get a lift, I mean."_

I told him that would be just fine.


	25. Chapter 25

**Soda**

Sometimes, I swear, it felt like everything I did was a complete disaster.

_Evie could do with a break_, said Pony when he came back from her place. Darry was more upset than I was, when Pony ditched us on Christmas night for a 'walk' that turned into him hanging at Evie's. I understood that he needed to not be home, where the memories were.

I was raring to get up to Jo's, which was what Pony was talking about, seeing as how I couldn't drive myself yet.

Christmas Day was a Monday, so Darry and Two-Bit had to work the next day and Pony had been picking up extra shifts all month. Maggie Mathews offered to have Jay, and Evie—no jiving—was keen to drive me. In fact, _C'mon, Soda, it'll be the only 'vacation' I get, this side of never_, was Evie's own description of driving herself home after she'd taken me to the farm. She'd been using the Chevy for all the months Steve was gone and hadn't wrecked it yet, so it seemed like a win-win.

And then we got there and Jo came out to greet us and Gary was with her, and Gary took one look at my driver getting out the car and his eyes lit up and he said, "Hey there, little doll, I knew my Christmas wish must've been delayed this year," and I suddenly realized I was going to have to kill my fiance's brother.

Jo gave up kissing me and looked around, to see what I was focused on.

Luckily, the urge to murder Gary lasted for a whole two seconds before Evie snorted with laughter, looked him up and down, and said,

"Well, I bet that kind of bullshit goes over real well at the rodeo, huh, cowboy? What'd you get, about a fifty per cent return rate?"

He grinned cheerfully. "More like seventy five."

"Hah!" Evie scoffed. "I heard them buckle bunnies was short on savvy." She grinned right back at him and stuck out her hand. "I'm Evie. I'm your sister's married friend."

"Shoot," he said. Or something close enough.

Jo laughed at him and said 'Hi' to Evie, then kissed me again. She leaned back, to take in my leg. "Look at you, I bet that feels better. _Is _it better, what'd the doctor say?"

I ignored her last two questions, told her it felt better and that I'd taken the longest shower in history, in celebration of losing the cast. She knew not being able to get in the tub had been driving me crazy.

"He might actually be telling the truth." Evie tucked her arm into Jo's, as we headed for the house. I still had one crutch but I was trying to make out like it was nothing. "I mean," she continued, "I just shared a car with him for two hours and I didn't haveta open the window or nothin'." Gary snickered like a twelve year old girl.

The real truth was, my knee was aching some, from being stuck in the car. But I made sure to sit on the end of the kitchen bench, so I could stretch my leg out and I was pretty well distracted by the food that Jo's mom set in front of us. And everyone else was pretty much distracted by meeting Evie.

Audrey, who was about medium sized pregnant to my eyes, looked her over carefully and got into a discussion about make up. Pete was more subtle than Gary in checking her out, but equally disappointed when Evie dropped Steve's name into the conversation. And nearly-fifteen year old Chris completely ignored her, which meant one of two things, to me; either he was fighting a hard on under the table, or he wasn't into girls. Because looking at her, laughing and joking, I was certain there'd never been anyone quite like my best friend's wife in this kitchen before.

Jo's mom laughed when Evie repeated the line about looking forward to being on her own for the trip back—I was staying over and coming home with Jo in a day or so—and she told Evie she had it easy with only one kid.

"Yeah," agreed Evie, scooping up the pie Mrs McBride had dished out to us before we even sat down. "But I got Two-Bit to contend with, as well. 'S'almost like two kids in the house."

"Is Two-Bit your dog?" Jo's mom asked, as Gary blurted in disbelief, "You got a kid?"

Evie grinned at the both of them. Jo rolled her eyes and told her mom that she'd mentioned Two-Bit 'the person' plenty of times. And Evie just looked Gary straight in the eye and said, "Yeah. I do."

The conversation, directed by Audrey, slid onto Jay and how old he was, and how big he was, and all the other details that are apparently so important to chicks. It didn't occur to any of them to ask if Evie had actually given birth to Jay and she never corrected their assumption. I hadn't known that Jo had never told them the details.

I was hit with a wave of missing Steve; wishing he was here to answer the questions about his kid. To show off, like Evie was, boasting about how cool Jay was, how clever he was, how many words he could say and him only a year and a half old.

I had Steve's latest letter in my pocket, like a lucky charm. It was part of my wake up call, why I'd realized what I was putting Jo through and asked her if I could come see her. I still had to explain and apologize to her. And also 'fess up about my knee and what the doctor said. I just hoped she wasn't going to be as pissed as Darry was with me.

The whole way home from the hospital, Darry never stopped talking about what the doctor had said. I hadn't expected the assessment, I'd thought I was just going to get the cast taken off. Christmas present to myself. Ha. My leg felt weirdly light, even with the brace that replaced the heavy cast. And it still fucking hurt; the doctor had made me bend every which way, and poked his fingers all around my kneecap. Another X ray too. That wasn't going to be a cheap visit.

The best thing was that I got to wear jeans again, not the old pair of sweatpants that Darry had donated to be sliced open and fit the cast. The worst part was Darry yakking on about what the doctor called my 'options'.

I finally spoke up, as we pulled into the driveway at home. "It's _my_ knee, right? That means it's _my _choice, right?"

Darry's eyebrows dropped as he scowled like Mom used to. I knew what that meant. He didn't agree, wouldn't let up and I hadn't heard the end of this, by a long shot.

I was still supposed to be using a crutch—well, two, according to the doctor, but I'd almost perfected a quick hop on only one with the cast, so I was confident I'd be even better now—but, boy, was it easier to manage the steps on my own.

When Darry sat down opposite me, instead of doing whatever he needed to be doing, I knew what he was going to argue for: he wanted me to have the surgery.

I figured my best chance was to come from as many angles as I could, so I leaped right in, before he could say anything. "You strike oil in the back yard while I was gone? You got any idea how much it would cost, to let that doctor open up my leg? An' it ain't even guaranteed to work, he said—"

"He said 'better than seventy percent' chance of success—"

"Not good enough odds for me. Not worth being sliced open and back in a cast for God knows how long—"

"_Soda_. You wouldn't be in a cast for the rest of your life! But if you don't get it fixed that's how long you'll be limping for."

I shook my head. "That's what they said the first time. It got better on its own then."

"No, it damn well didn't!" Darry was pretty much yelling by that point. "That's the reason it gave out on you _this _time!"

"Well, it can't go any more than it already did."

He grit his teeth in frustration. "Why don't you wanna get it fixed? I don't underst—_Wait_. Do you think you'll have to go back? That the Army'll re-draft you, if it's fixed?"

I told him, _No_, sharply, but I could practically see him trying to slot puzzle pieces together in his head as he stared at me. Fuck.

Yes, the knee brace was way lighter than the cast had been, but I wasn't used to it yet and I wasn't sure how fast I'd be if I tried to get away. And I _really_ wanted to get out from under his scrutiny.

Darry made an effort to keep his voice calm. "Buddy, did you...did you do this on purpose?"

Did I what? Bust my knee and set myself up for who knew how long of pain and reduced mobility, to get out of Basic? No, not Basic. To get out of going to Vietnam. Holy shit, it was the exact opposite. I was trying too fucking hard to get there.

"You think I'm that much of a coward?"

"No. _Jesus, no_. I just don't get why you don't want it fixed."

"Maybe it'll get better. I wanna give it a while, is all. Maybe in six months, if it ain't any better..." I swallowed.

"Six months?" I swear a little light came on in my big brother's brain. "Aw, Soda, for Chrissakes." He sounded more sad than anything else now. "You don't owe Steve anything, y'know."

"Who said anything about Steve?" I protested.

"So it's pure coincidence that you want to delay your recovery until Steve gets home?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Okay, call it seven months, eight, whatever. Nothing to do with Steve. I wanna see if it gets better without surgery, is all." That was near enough to the truth as to not make a difference. And if it took me all the way to Steve's return, so what? I still didn't think I counted as 'injured', not Army injured, not like the first aid examples or the true life tales of the NCOs, but if there was a balance sheet being kept somewhere in Heaven, and I tipped it even slightly away from Steve…

Darry sighed. An expression of defeat. For now. "Okay." He pointed. "You wanna put some of this stuff on the tree? Pony obviously didn't get to it, while we were out." He shoved the box of decorations towards me with his foot. Despite myself, I couldn't help looking in the box. Everything in there had been bought, or made, by Mom, or Mom helping us.

I knew why Pony wasn't interested in trimming the tree. Christmas had been warped for us; lost under the imminent anniversary of Mom and Dad's passing. I thought about the year I focused on souping the Dodge, racing it into all the way into a wreck, rather than think about the time of year. Christmas still felt like it was a marker, like it mainly served to signpost the worst day in our history_. Ha, you suckers, remember when you were happy about gifts and food and insignificant shit that year? You should've known what was coming._

Right on top of the decorations was a trio of plaster angels on a string. I reached for it, as Darry stood.

"Here we all are," I said, showing him.

He snorted, but he said fondly, "Yeah. Mom was kind of optimistic, even back then."

"Speak for yourself. I was always her little angel."

"Ha. I said she was optimistic, not completely delusional." He swiped up the mail from the dining table—Pony must have dumped it there while we were gone—and walked back a few paces to hand me a couple of envelopes.

I had a Christmas card from Josiah, telling me he was invited to Jeff's family home for the leave they had coming in mid January, before they shipped out to Vietnam. I was glad Jeff had his back. He was going to need someone looking out for him.

And I had a letter from Steve.

Darry was in the kitchen, opening the ice box, moving dishes, getting on with dinner. He hadn't been counting the weeks like me, didn't realize this was probably the reply to the news that I was out of all the shit Steve'd been through. That I wasn't joining him.

It was short. Every letter I'd gotten from Steve was short, but I could hardly fault him for that; I wasn't exactly much of a writer myself. I'd tried to tell him I was sorry, that I felt like I'd let him down, but in the end what I sent was a straight up telling of the facts. And now I had his response in my hand.

I read it twice over, to make sure I wasn't missing anything, wasn't misreading his feelings on the matter.

_Hallelujah__, Buddy, Looks like them damn horses were good for something after all. You oughta track down the one that busted your knee in the first place and thank it. You ain't missing a thing. I mean, only the swimming pools and the bikini babes and the free beer...(I'm kidding and if you tell Evie I said any of that, I'mma come home and bust your other knee.) At least there'll be someone at home to talk to my kid about engines. I want him knowing a fan belt from a carburetor when I get back, okay?_

_How's Roy making out? You got him working any faster?_

_Is Evie okay? She wrote me that Two-Bit tried to fix one of the kitchen cabinets. Get Darry to check it. _

_Save me a real beer and make it real cold, okay._

_Your buddy, Steve._

Could it be that easy?

xxXxx

Two flights of stairs. Damn.

"Sweetheart, you want me to make up the couch for you?"

I shot a grateful smile at Mrs. McBride and nodded. "Is that okay? Thank you."

She told me to sit down. Said she knew all about men pushing themselves too soon after an injury. "I hope Gary didn't get you in the saddle already." She was teasing, but she was closer than she knew to the truth.

After Evie had left, clutching every food package she'd been offered and whooping about not having to cook for days when she got home, I'd gone over to the stables with Jo and Gary. I commented that there was more stock than last time I'd visited.

Jo made an exaggerated wince. "Gary's in trouble with Sam, 'cause he bought some horses without checking—"

"There ain't a thing wrong with those ponies!" Gary objected.

"'Cept nobody wants to buy 'em, wild as they are. And you ain't got time to work 'em."

We checked out the horses in question. They were half wild. And lovely.

"Listen, I know a guy..." I said, as we leaned on the corral fence, watching them. "He likes to train up his own animals. Maybe I could ask him if he's in the market to buy."

"Sure." Gary nodded, pleased. "You wanna take a turn, while you're here?" He jerked his thumb back towards the stable and the family horses.

"I wish. I guess I'm done with all that." I tapped my crutch against the fence.

Gary made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "Bullshit. One of the best riders I know has got a crock leg—broke it so many times it's two inches shorter than the other. Can't walk right at all, but on horseback there's no beatin' him."

Jo hit him on the arm. "Soda only just got his cast off. Don't be an idiot!"

"Maybe tomorrow," I said, with a smile, letting both of them think they'd won.

Maybe indeed. I thought about that as I lay on the couch, the house finally quiet. My knee was okay, now I was lying down. It hadn't liked being stuck in one position for so long in the Chevy and I couldn't put my full weight on it when I walked—it was weird, not having that option, but as long as I remembered, there wasn't anything like the pain from when it went out on me.

I was supposed to be trying back at work in the next week. Mike had said my old job was there, waiting. Like Steve's would be, for him. Somehow I couldn't imagine hopping between the workshop and the pumps, so I was probably in for some long shifts up at the register. _Great._

"Hey, baby. You sleeping?"

"What are you doing?" I hissed back at Jo, as she tiptoed into the living room.

"I forgot to show you something." Like that made any sense at all, at one in the morning. She was grinning as she leaned on the back of the couch. "C'mon." She beckoned me towards the door.

I held up a corner of my blanket. "I'm not dressed."

Her smile turned wicked. "Oh, my. I'm shocked," she deadpanned. "Put your pants on then, and hurry up about it."

It was freezing, making our way across the yard, even though I tried to hurry. Jo didn't turn on the flashlight she'd brought until the stable door was closed behind us. One or two of the horses stirred. She shone the light over the ladder to the hay loft.

"You can do this, right?"

"This is crazy. You're crazy. What if—" The rest of my objection was cut off by a kiss.

"You want some help with the ladder?" Jo rocked up against me, until it got interesting, then began to climb.

Apparently not. Apparently, two arms and one leg would get me up ten rungs, just fine. Worrying about getting down would have to come later. I looked at the horse blankets spread on the loose hay.

"You always tuck in the feed, like that?" I asked her. She told me to shut up and hold her. I didn't need any more instructions after that.

Maybe not everything I did was a complete disaster.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Josefin, you're right. There's no danger of Soda being redrafted. That was just a guess on Darry's part, about what might be motivating Soda. :)**

* * *

**Jo**

"Sodapop Curtis! You put your hand there one more time..." He jumped, in a real amusing way, when I snapped at him. Made out like he didn't know what I was talking about, as I carried on, "I swear, you put your hand towards that gear lever one more time and I'mma kick you out this car." But I grinned to soften the threat. Although he was being real annoying; we'd only been on the road back to Tulsa for a half hour and he'd tried to change gear, or flick the turn-indicator for me, twice already.

Soda wriggled in his seat, edging a little nearer the window and sat on his hand as he smiled back at me. "Sorry."

"What gives anyway? I've driven you loads."

He shrugged. "I miss driving."

"Well, I'll be happy to let you get back to it, just as soon as you can touch the pedal without yelping." I had no guilt about using his failed attempt to drive against him.

My brother was a hell of a bad influence. He'd dared Soda to get behind the wheel—unsuccessfully—and he'd even got him up on Grits for a short time, although luckily they had the sense not to actually put Soda's bad leg in the stirrup. I supposed I should've been grateful they didn't use Tabasco. And I sure couldn't be sad about the fact that Soda was more like his old self than he had been in the whole time since he got home.

He'd told me, as we cuddled in the hay loft afterwards, about his visit to the doctor and about Steve's letter. It was plumb crazy for Soda to have been in knots about the fact that he couldn't go to Vietnam and I bit my lip so as not to remind him that his best friend hadn't wanted to go in the first damn place, so what right would he have had to make Soda feel bad? I couldn't help feeling a measure of resentment about the importance Soda still attached to Steve's opinions. On everything. Luckily, Steve wasn't sore at him, for 'ducking' the draft, which was how Soda put it. As it was, his letter went a long way to setting things right and getting Soda back to how he should be.

As did the fact that we were in the hay loft in the first place. I ain't stupid.

The only thing I didn't really get was Soda's reluctance to have his knee fixed. Both his brothers had given him a hard time.

"Thing is," he said, with a sigh, "I ain't Darry or Pony. I never had a football scholarship, or a place on the track team. It don't bother me like it would them. But I don't think they can see it, without it being from their point of view."

"Okay," I said slowly, unwilling to lose the newly reformed connection between us, by also appearing to be against him on this. "But, sports aside, it's going to affect your life."

"Maybe I'm just fed up being perfect," he said, with a cheeky grin.

"You think having a bad leg is going to stop random chicks coming onto you...?"

"Oh, no, I like that part—"

I elbowed him and it degenerated into tickling for a few seconds, but we were too warm and cozy to prolong that. I snuggled back against him and in the quiet that followed, I gently asked him if he was scared of the surgery.

"Kind of," he admitted, which surprised me even though I'd asked. "See, if I have the surgery and it doesn't work, that's it. Done deal. For as long as I don't, though, I still got the possibility." That was the kind of Sodapop logic that made my head spin.

He kissed me, then held my hand, twisting the ring he'd given me. "Plus I need to get back to work, not take another few months out. If I can do that, do _something_, then what does it matter? It's not like I was ever gonna follow Darry up on any roof, but there must be something I can do okay."

Well, that was interesting, seeing as how he had a job waiting for him.

"…an' if Pony can do what he wants with his life, I don't see why I can't. Did I tell you he's going to college after all?" He had, and Evie had and Darry had. The only one who hadn't explained the change of heart to me, was the star student himself.

Darry's account was that Pony had realized he was too damn smart to waste his brain power in a dead end job, for lousy money—and what, or rather _who_ else, did that say something about, was my immediate thought.

Now Soda told me that Pony had been hanging with studenty types who'd made the whole 'campus rebellion' deal sound irresistible. "Thinks he's gonna stop the war via some student newspaper," he said, with an indulgent smile.

My own opinion, based on some of Evie's comments, was that Ponyboy's decision was less to do with the war in general and more to do with Soda's being drafted in particular. When Pony was reluctant to leave home, he'd had two brothers and what passed for normality in their lives. Being without Soda, even for a few weeks, had shown him that even if he never moved out of that house, things would change. He couldn't stop that.

But whatever the real reason, Pony going to college was irrelevant, as far as convincing Soda to have surgery went; the best I could hope for was that he would tire of the pain, or the awkwardness. Sodapop Curtis slowed down by something that had a possible fix? I figured it was only a matter of time.

xxXxx

I'm pretty sure that in Soda's head, 'not telling' did not exactly match up with 'lying'. He seemed to operate under the impression that as long as his big brother didn't know where he was, he wasn't really breaking any rules.

"Seriously?" I said, when I found out he still hadn't told Darry what he was up to. "It can't possibly be that big of a deal." Soda shrugged and tried to make light of it. And still kept his mouth shut about the horses.

Of course he was hanging out at Mac's stables. I drove him there most of the time. When we got back to Tulsa, one of the first things we did was head out on the Brumly road, so Soda could ask Barrett if he was interested in Gary's 'investment' stock. He was. He had a good turnover of horses and plenty of customers. What he was short on was help.

Gary drove back down with Barratt; they needed both trailers to shift the animals. It seemed obvious that Soda would be on hand, since he'd set the whole thing up. He just stayed on, after that—the knee injury had already become the excuse for him quitting the DX, but I wasn't the only one who'd seen that decision coming for a while. I was sure he was underestimating Darry and when the truth came out, only Soda was surprised that Darry didn't go ape at all.

I think he genuinely didn't appreciate that the picture which had been in all our heads, of him in some jungle somewhere, still had a powerful effect; whatever he chose to do with his life was better than that.

At first he tired quickly, even though he only did what he called 'easy' stuff; exercising the gentler ponies on a lunge rein, grooming, taking care of the tack. He was out of shape. To be honest he'd been underweight when he got back from Fort Sill—which was no surprise since it sounded like he'd been living on chocolate and aspirin—and two months in a cast hadn't helped. But being happy turned out to be as good for him as the fresh air and exercise. Maybe he couldn't drive the trailer around at first, but he could load and unload it, slinging around hay bales and feed sacks that I couldn't hope to lift. And apparently even shoveling horse shit was preferable to working the register at the gas station.

But one of Barratt's sidelines was riding lessons and that was where Soda excelled. He could gentle a nervous kid as well as he could any ornery horse. And one day when I arrived to collect him, I saw Soda was up on horseback, walking with a learner around the paddock and offering encouragement the whole way.

A week or so later, I watched as he slid down from the saddle and walked his horse into the stable, did everything that needed to be done for his mount and the learner's—rich kids paid to ride, not clean up—and finally said he was ready to leave.

I nodded slowly. "You forget anything?"

Soda looked around the stalls, at the feed, the water and the blanketed horses. "Don't think so."

I pointed.

"Oh. Yeah." He scooped up the knee brace from where he'd left it over a hook meant for bridles. He slung it over his shoulder as we made our way to the car. He still had a limp, when he was tired, or if he pushed himself too far, but that was the last day I saw the brace.

xxXxx

I guess it was a birthday tradition, in the Curtis house. Even when the birthday boy in question didn't really understand what was going on.

So, we were all crammed into the kitchen, with our eyes focused at about knee level. Jay stood still for all of three seconds, as Pony crouched down to make the mark on the pantry door frame, and he giggled as Pony flattened the pen on top of his little head.

Pony smiled. "He's two, we should've started this last year."

"Was he even standing up last birthday?"

Two-Bit clipped Soda around the ear. "Of course he was standing up!" He beamed at Jay. "Kid's a genius." Jay grinned and tried to take the pen from Pony's hand as he wrote the date next to a big 'J'.

I noticed something and moved Soda aside to take a closer look. "How come Steve was in here too?" The marks on the inside of the molding traced all three Curtis boys through the years but also had lines labelled 'SR' for most of the middle section.

Evie scooped up Jay, before he could open the drawer he was tugging on, as Soda shrugged an answer:

"We've been friends a long time."

I frowned at him. "Yeah, I get that. So how come it stops here?" For the last several marks, there were only the brothers' names. Pony snorted with laughter. Soda tried to keep a straight face, but ended up smiling too.

Evie elbowed past. "What's this about Steve?"

"He threw a tantrum—" Pony started, and Soda jumped in with, "When we were twelve—"

"And Soda was taller, two birthdays in a row, even though Steve was older!"

"Point blank refused to get measured again."

Everyone laughed. Even Evie. Though she softened it by squinting at Soda, like she was measuring him.

"You might wanna check yourself now."

"What? I'm still taller'n Steve."

Evie shook her head but Soda didn't get her point until she looked slowly across at Pony.

The youngest Curtis waggled the pen in his hand and went nose to nose with his brother. "I think she's right. Wanna test it?"

"Nah, you just got thick socks on, kid," said Soda, stretching up onto his toes. He wobbled. "Ouch." He pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down quickly. "Sorry, can't do it at the moment. My knee, y'know." He sounded innocent enough, but he looked across at me and winked. I knew his knee hadn't really hurt; the word he said when it caught him by surprise was not plain 'ouch'. Ponyboy knew it too and he pulled a face that made it clear what he would have said, if Jay wasn't in the room.

Two-Bit was wedging himself in the pantry doorway experimentally. "Am I taller than Darry?" He twisted around to see where his hand had measured. "I am!" He seemed thrilled.

"Yeah, right," said Pony in a lazy drawl over his shoulder, as he searched the ice box for a Pepsi.

"It says 'Darry', right here."

"An' it says '17' right next to it, dufus. That's the last one he did. You ain't taller than him now."

I laughed at all this. "He'll be home soon, and you see him all the time anyway. You don't need no marks on the wall to know if you're taller than him. Just stand next to him when he comes in."

Two-Bit wrinkled his nose. "Aw, where's the fun in that?" He beckoned to Evie. "C'mere, Tink. See if we can get two of you stacked up to one Darry." She pulled a very unladylike face and mouthed a cuss at him, over Jay's head. Two-Bit stepped away from the cabinet and looked chastened, but then he started whistling 'Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue...'

Evie stuck out her tongue.

xxXxx

I think the week before Steve arrived home was the worst, in all the time he was away. And I'm including the one where Soda found out that Steve had volunteered extra time in Vietnam. He was horrified when Two-Bit came by to tell everyone what was in Steve's latest letter to Evie.

He ended up outside on the porch, pacing. I curled onto the old couch and waited for him to get his thoughts in order.

"I wish I still smoked," he eventually said, with a smile that seemed more like a grimace. I didn't think there was any point going over the reasons for Steve's decision—Two-Bit had explained that it meant Steve could come right home instead of having to use up his whole draft period, Stateside.

Soda chewed on his lip, then disappeared inside the house, coming back with a piece of paper in his hand. He thrust it at me. "Got this a week or so ago."

At first I thought it was a letter from Steve. But a couple of the sentences didn't make sense, so I flipped it over to check the signature. It was from someone called Joe; Soda had talked about him, but never shown me any letters before.

It didn't make for pleasant reading. My first instinct was to be mad at this 'Joe', for telling Soda about the things he was describing. He talked almost in code, in Army slang, about gun fights and guys in his patrol being hurt. About blood and dirt and the rush that overcame his fear. And then he signed off with:

'_So that last kill was mine. Jeff says to tell you I got my eye in at last.'_

"He couldn't even shoot straight, at Sill." The comment was almost a whisper. I looked up at Soda, who was waiting on my reaction.

"I don't think Steve has the same job out there..." I tried.

Soda took the letter from me and folded it carefully. "Yeah. I know. But he's out there all the same."

So, on we waited. I suspected the extra fuss over Jay's birthday was more than a little bit designed to make up for Steve still being gone. If any of the guys thought that worked for Evie, they were crazy. But she put on a good show all the same.

That last week though, her nerves along with Soda's, started to show.

Evie came close to having her hair cut about five times. She was convinced Steve wouldn't like it, the longer way she was wearing it. I persuaded her to wait and see, because I thought she'd regret cutting it more. Then I had to run through her wardrobe with her, to choose an outfit and to convince her she had _not_ gained weight in the last year. It was like first date jitters, times a million.

In a way I resented that everyone acted like life had been on hold all these months. It wasn't even true. Soda had a new job, a new car—although I'd had to sit through all his speculation over what Steve would think of it, would he have chosen it, would he think Soda had gotten a good deal because it needed some fixing up etc, etc...

And in Evie's house, the fact that Jay was a full on toddler couldn't make it more obvious that time had moved along. That thought made me feel like a heel; Steve had missed all of that and I knew that had Soda gone to Vietnam I'd have been utterly and completely focused on counting down the days until his return. I just had to admit to myself that I still wasn't Steve Randle's biggest fan.

I didn't make it to dinner, on his first day back and Soda was more subdued than I would have expected when he told me about it. We headed to Evie's though, the next evening. It was really a 'going to college' party for Pony, as far as I was concerned.

Steve looked different, to me. I might not even have recognized him on the street. I hadn't ever seen him without his hair greased, was one reason. He had a large drink in his hand and he said, "Hey sweetheart," to me, which wasn't something he'd ever called me, before he went away. His smile—not quite all the way to the eyes—was familiar enough. I stayed in the front room, with the kids, while the guys began catching up to Steve and Evie's brother in law.

Actually, Evie's sister didn't stay long after we all arrived and she hauled her husband away too. She insisted her kid was kept in some kind of bedtime routine, which was hilarious seeing as how she was otherwise a spoiled little brat. I helped Evie get Jay settled for bed, which wasn't easy, what with the noise the guys were making.

Steve's cousin Elle had come by with Two-Bit, which caused me and Evie to exchange meaningful glances. We'd been watching them dance around each other all summer. There was so much tension there, we figured it had to be a case of 'when', not 'if', they got together.

By the time Darry and Pony split, I was just on the right side of lit and Soda was so mellowed out on a combination of beer and happiness that I reckon he could have floated right up to the ceiling. That was a good excuse to hold on tight to him, anyway. We were making out like eighth graders at their first party with alcohol, but I was pretty sure I said goodbye to Pony and wished him luck. I'd given him a gift certificate for books earlier in the day so I didn't feel too bad. Soda was talking about driving down the next weekend, 'to see him settled'.

I noticed that we had the front room to ourselves all of a sudden. Nice as that was, my curiosity was hiked right up. Soda complained when I dragged him to his feet, but I shushed him and made him tiptoe into the kitchen.

He gaped at the scene on the back porch and I had to shush him with a kiss that time, otherwise he would have whooped at Two-Bit. Although, given his friend was wrapped around Steve's cousin and deep in a kiss himself, it might not have mattered.

"Did you know about this?" Soda hissed in my ear, as he pulled me onto his lap. We still had a good view out the back door. I shrugged modestly and he grinned, fit to bust. "Man, this is turning out to be the best week." He hugged me tight. "I think everything's gonna be perfect from here on out."


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: If you didn't read 'Love Me Two Times', you might need to check out Chapter 26 of that, to make sense of what's got Soda upset. Although, that's right at the end, so I don't know how that works for spoilers...but then the two stories are so intertwined, I can't think of them separately at all! I'd like to hear from anyone who has never read my Evie stories but reads this one, especially if this one doesn't make sense to you. And yes, Josefin, it is indeed,**

**Late 1968!**

* * *

**Soda**

"_Why don't you keep the kid at your pad, then? Seems like that'd make everyone happy."_

I laughed it off at the time. But later, on the walk home, I got to wondering.

"_Jesus H. Christ, Curtis, I don't remember you being so square."_

And I didn't remember a joint ever being an automatic chaser to a night out.

"_What am I, everyone's private fucking mechanic? Fix your own fucking wheels."_

I was starting to feel like whoever came back wearing Steve's skin, it wasn't my buddy.

xxXxx

Darry scowled at me, when I went in the house, heading for the kitchen since I didn't have breakfast yet.

Shit. I forgot to call him, to say I was crashing at Steve's. The last he'd heard was when Two-Bit called from the Emergency Room last night, asking me for a ride.

"Everyone alive, then?" he snarked, dropping his cereal bowl into the sink.

Two things happened inside of me; the first was the desire to spill every single thing, every single word; the second was the blanket, the automatic cover up, the push-it-all-back-inside because it hurts too fucking much to remember.

Without last night, and Steve saying what he said, and me and Two-Bit saying what we said afterwards, I might not even have recognized the second impulse for what it was. Too accustomed to operating by that code, like all of us were.

"Soda?" Darry's voice had lost the sarcasm. I guess my delay in replying had clued him in that something was wrong.

"Steve...busted Two-Bit's nose—"

"_What?"_

"—but that ain't the big deal." I swallowed. "They hadda slip him something at the hospital. Steve, I mean, not Two-Bit. _Steve_, to bring him down,'cause he...he's a bit broken in general, to be honest. He...like, you must've seen, since he got back...he ain't been himself. Last night he was saying some stuff...he's kind of fucked up..."

Darry's eyes were about as wide as I'd ever seen them. He took a step towards me, which was the point I realized I hadn't got done with all my tears last night.

"You ever walk there now?" I stumbled over the words, pointing in the general direction of the empty lot. "I mean, where Dallas...I mean, I never knew Two-Bit won't walk on the sidewalk there. Not anymore. Did you know that?"

My big brother pulled out a chair and pushed me in it. He took a seat himself and scooted closer, his arm resting on the table between us, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach out and touch me.

"What the hell happened last night?"

xxXxx

At some point in my garbled story, Darry got up and made a phone call, told his boss he was taking the morning off.

"You see Steve this morning?" he finally asked, when I'd run dry. Explained that it wasn't just Vietnam that had sent Steve haywire. Or if it was, it was only because it also yanked up whatever had been kept hidden about Dallas dying like he did.

I nodded. "Evie got us to wake him up. Part of the problem's been him sleeping all day. He needs to go back to work."

"What you said about driving, though?"

"Yeah. We said we'd babysit him, kind of. Me an' Two-Bit. Bring him to work with us. He won't go back to the DX—Shit!" Something occurred to me. "You think I should've stayed there? Think he'd go back to work, if I was there?"

Darry shook his head. "It doesn't sound like it, to me." He made me jump when he gripped my forearm, his hand so tight it almost hurt. "Do you know how glad I am, that you got to stay home?" Yeah. I think I did. He let go, just as abruptly, and stood up to make a pot of coffee. I watched the back of his head for a second or two and decided that I was done with pushing everything away.

"Why didn't we ever talk about Dallas? Or Johnny, for that matter? That was some powerful shit that went down, but we never..."

Darry froze, his hand on the mug he was reaching for. "Why do you think?" It was a genuine question, not a challenge, his voice was gentle. Sad. "There was so much to deal with, all at once…"

"Yeah, I guess with Pony being sick, taking him to the hospital, all of that...I guess it was easy to focus on him those first few days."

"That was _all_ I could think about. That it could've been him, instead of Johnny. I hate hospitals." He put a coffee I hadn't asked for in front of me and took a long swig of his own. I thought about the way that Darry had stayed with Pony, instead of going to the funerals. Said Pony wasn't strong enough.

Johnny being dead took longer to sink in for me. I didn't see him, not for a week, before it happened. Didn't see him in the hospital. Seeing Dallas… What happened to Dallas was _too_ fucking real. That was part of the problem.

I let the rest of my fears out. "This deal with Steve. Seeing someone else shot, that really screwed him up. I was thinking about how Pony is, with the sight of blood. Wonderin' if all of us are just some kind of time bomb, waiting, all gonna explode one day…"

"I hope not. What happened to Steve was extreme. I hope to God none of us ever have to go through anything like that."

I told Darry about Evie saying Steve had always had difficulty sleeping. He didn't seem surprised.

I said about me and Two-Bit having different memories of the sounds of that night, but both still hearing them, like we were stuck at that moment when Dallas went down. Asked how Darry remembered it, what replayed in his head.

"It isn't anything about when it happened. It's before..." A real sick look washed over Darry's face. "I can't ever stop wondering. If I'd said something else on the phone. If I'd told him to come the back way to the house. Or meet us somewhere else..."

Shit. That was a whole other layer of guilt. It had never occurred me before that Darry felt he had a role in what happened. I barely remembered the details of the phone call, it seemed insignificant in the light of everything that came afterwards.

"I think it made no difference. I think Dallas knew what he was doing." I believed that. "It would've been the same result, no matter where he was."

"If we could have calmed him down—"

I shook my head. "He knew. He knew what would happen when he raised that shooter."

It looked like he wanted to argue some more but then Darry nodded reluctantly. "Yeah."

I got up and opened the ice box, flooding my coffee with milk. I've never taken it straight black like that. Darry pushed the sugar towards me.

"So, this. Talking about Dallas. You think this is something Steve needs? To...get past it?" The concept sounded alien, coming out of his mouth. It was like he'd walked up to me, dressed in beads, and presented me with a flower. Peace, man. But, yes. That was what I thought.

And the rest.

"Yeah, Steve needs it. But I reckon we do too." I thought about Pony, trying to pretend it all went down a different way, that Johnny didn't do what he did to that Soc. Then retreating into himself for a while. We didn't know any better, I guess, than to let him climb out that hole on his own. What if he hadn't been able to? What else had he tucked away into his head?

I swallowed. Added another spoonful of sugar to my mug. "Shutting up and getting on with it? ...Comes back to bite you." I pulled up my final nugget of guilt and fear. "An' I think we did it the other time too. I think we shoulda talked about Mom and Dad more."

That. That look on his face. That was why I never got into the subject with my big brother and I assumed he saw the same kind of thing on me, on Pony. It wasn't cowardice, I was almost sure, to avoid the issue, it was not wanting the other one to hurt, that was what made us not confront it. But it hurt anyway.

"See, I was thinking, maybe, Pony's nightmares..." I waited for Darry to tell me I was wrong.

He scrubbed his hand across his face. "Shit, Soda. I don't know."

"I mean, I know he had bad dreams when he was real little, as well, so maybe it was always going to happen again. But Mom and Dad an' all...I mean, did we get it that wrong?"

"Ain't no 'we' about it, little buddy. It was my call, to handle things the way we handled them."

"I'm sorry. I feel like I bugged out on you then."

"What?" He looked genuinely shocked. "I never thought that. Buddy...we were all dealing. We were all...You were so great with Pony. _I _feel like I left that part of it to _you_."

"I left it _all_ to you."

"You were sixteen!"

"An' you were their kid too. You did everything. I never even asked for the details." _Then._

He looked me in the eye for a long moment. "You wanna know now?"

I nodded.

He took a little breath. "Dad went on impact. The cops were at the scene first, but the ambulance guy was still around when I got to the ER. He said what the cops said looked right. Dad took the main hit, would've went instantly. Mom..." I waited as he steadied himself "...the cop said she was breathing when he got there. Not talking. Not awake. And then she was gone by the time they put her in the ambulance. The guy said she wouldn't've known. But I dunno, if he just said that, for me. If that's what they say." He bit his lip, hard. "I want to believe it." Me too. God in Heaven. Me too.

"Did Pony ever ask?"

He shook his head.

"Maybe we should—"

Darry held up his hand. "Listen, man, it's his first semester. He's got a lot on his plate."

I couldn't explain properly, but I knew I was right. Even a new picture in my imagination, of both my parents unconscious, maybe worse—_Dad went on impact_—was better than the hundreds of assorted possibilities that had never given up swirling around my brain in all this time. Pony would be home for Thanksgiving. I would talk to Darry again, see about covering the rest of the stuff between us all then.

What happened to Steve was frightening. But I kind of understood how it had happened. I didn't want any one of us to fall like that, not if I could see a way to keep us back from the edge in the first place.

xxXxx

It was a good thing I knew Evie had put her foot down over Steve's getting wasted. Otherwise I would have thought he was hung over, blamed a sore head for his crappy mood. Maybe I'd have cut him some slack, allowed a little sympathy. But since I knew he was just pissed at having to come to work with me, I told him to shut the hell up, instead.

"You don't even know that you won't like it," I said, as I took the turn down to Barratt's place.

"Yes. Yes, I fucking do. I know exactly what it'll be like, it'll be like when we were kids and you dragged me to the same fucking place. The fucking hay will get up my nose and the fucking animals will stink and—"

"You sound exactly like this kid last week, whose parents insisted on lessons." I glanced over to make sure Steve was listening. "_She's twelve_."

Steve gave me the finger and told me to let him out the car.

"You want me to drive you to Two-Bit's instead?"

"That fucking firetrap? I ain't listening to him sweet talking old ladies out of their junk no more."

"So shut up and help me out instead."

Steve muttered something about Barratt and 'helping out' that sounded double edged. I pointed out that Barratt was paying the both of us.

"I ain't gonna be beholden to that fairy."

"Steve!"

He rolled his eyes. "Aw, c'mon, man. He was always a little off. Even back in the day."

"What bugs you more? That he's that way, or that he dated your wife, _back in the day_?"

For the second time Steve flipped me the bird. But I took it as a win; at least he stayed in the car.

I got him cleaning out the disused barn, figuring that general crap was less likely to set him off than actual crap. Steve seemed to be personally offended by the fact that horses had bodily functions. For myself, I preferred the stable smells to the gasoline that used to get into my clothes and hair, when we worked at the DX.

He appeared at the corral fence at about midday.

"That's it, man. I'm done."

"Okay. You wanna call Evie from the office, to come pick you up?" I touched my pocket furtively to make sure my car keys were in there. Usually I left them in the ignition, but I'd figured Steve might try to make a quick exit. I wasn't convinced he'd never drive again.

He kicked the fence post. Something else I knew: he was too stubborn to admit defeat. He'd agreed to work with me, no way was he calling his wife to rescue him early. He'd worked up a sweat though, tying his shirt around his middle at some point in the morning and now using it to wipe off his face, so I suggested we stopped for lunch.

I showed him where I usually sat, on some bales behind the big stable, where the shade was deep and there was a view over the paddocks. Down by the creek there was an old bunkhouse that the wranglers used when they blew through. Steve watched me as I sat and eased out my knee.

"You gonna be like one of those old dudes, who can tell when it's gonna rain by their rheumatiz?"

"Probably." I nodded, refusing to rise to the bait.

Steve sank an entire can of Seven Up in one long draft, belched and almost looked at me, sideways. "Does it hurt, though? For real?"

I shrugged, chewing on my sandwich. "Not that bad. Most days I don't even notice it."

"But is it gonna get better? Like, all the way better?"

"Dunno. Don't care. It don't stop me doing anything I wanna do."

"Okay, then, screw if it gets better. What if gets worse 'n worse, like when you get old?"

"Guess I'll worry about it when I'm old."

Now he looked like he didn't know whether to be pissed about my knee or pissed because he couldn't get me riled up about it. Either way, he had to let it go. He had to learn to.

I'd done a deal of thinking about Steve, since all that had happened. About how he wasn't comfortable when he wasn't in control. Not like his old man, with his neat freakery and the couch pillows all lined up. But how he was about needing people to be truthful, needing his world to be...reliable. Safe. _That _was what had shattered him, in Vietnam. And it was why it bothered him more than it did me, about my leg. Although, what it showed me about myself was just as surprising. I hadn't been waiting for Steve, but how he was now sure reinforced my thinking.

See, I discovered it wasn't that I was scared of having surgery. At least, not of being knocked out and opened up—although that did freak me some, if I thought about it in detail—and not even the idea that it might not fix it properly. I just needed to prove something, for a while longer.

I was the opposite of Steve; I already accepted the world was _not_ reliable. But if I could earn a living, even with a wrecked knee, I could make life carry on, but make it be by _my_ choice. After Mom and Dad, Johnny and Dallas, what happened to Evie last year, all the bad stuff we had no option but to get through, I needed to be the one making the decision. It wasn't enough to be optimistic, it was about sheer bloody mindedness.

I needed to show the world that I couldn't be broken.

This was _my_ middle finger, to life.

* * *

**A/N: Slightly freaked/hacked/confused by the lack of traffic stats on the site, so let me know if you read it! :)**


	28. Chapter 28

**June 1970**

**Jo**

Some days are just perfect. Perfect weather, perfect setting, perfect company.

I knew I was supposed to be stressed. Or nervous. Or something. But all I felt was happy.

Bits and pieces of conversations floated past me.

"I can't believe you had twins and you look like that. It's so unfair..." Audrey hadn't lost her baby weight the first time around, so why she was expecting a miracle this time, I had no clue. I'd relented and let her pick out her own dress, so she only had herself to blame if it was tight. Although I could see why she was jealous; for someone with nine month old twins, Evie did look pretty hot. I smiled, remembering how prickly things still were between Steve and Gary because Gary had visited Tulsa last summer when Evie was massively pregnant. He took one look at her and declared,

"Little doll, that ain't even funny. Want me to clock the asshole did that to ya?"

Unfortunately Steve overheard and didn't think it was funny. He was way more relaxed these days, but his hackles still came up, when it was to do with Evie or his boys. And, Jeez, who wouldn't forgive him for that, after what happened with Jay? But generally he was calmer, and he was doing right by Evie, no doubt about it. So it wasn't just the atmosphere of this particular day that made me think kindly towards him.

Soda had told me what went down. And since I ain't a complete bitch, I immediately had sympathy for what Steve had been through, of course I did. I even understood how and why the guys' friendship was as deep as it was; Steve's...'breakdown', I guess you could call it, had got Soda talking about how his friends Johnny and Dallas died, in more detail than he'd ever shared with me before.

I admit, I was a little hacked off when he insisted on staying home for Thanksgiving, so he could talk to Ponyboy about it all. I was fired up to see Audrey and the baby for the first time, so I went to the farm without him. And of course, I missed all the drama about Elle and Two-Bit getting engaged, on account of their own impending patter of tiny feet. But I came around. He was right. They did need to talk and, gradually, it was like all the guys relaxed a little, without anyone having noticed that they were tense in the first place.

When Soda couldn't convince Steve to love horses, it was _my_ idea to have him try working at the warehouse. Well, mine and Darry's. Steve was supposed to work with the roofing company but he nearly passed out the first time Darry let him up on a roof, so that wasn't going to be his lifelong career. The warehouse seemed like a better fit; to be honest, it was obvious by then that it suited Darry better as well, since he was taking on more and more management stuff for Uncle Jim, but he was still juggling both jobs back then.

Steve seemed to be doing fine. Uncle Jim always appreciated a hard worker and he certainly had no complaints so far. Having said all that, I was still surprised when Steve appeared in the office one afternoon; we were nowhere near lunch buddies and although he'd been working in the warehouse for a couple of weeks, he'd still managed to avoid me almost every day.

He shot me a lightning version of what passed for a smile and asked if I would be able to give him a lift home. I probably hesitated for longer than was polite, but I was used to seeing Evie pick him up, or if he was working late he'd hitch a ride with Darry.

When we got to the Rambler, it was even weirder, because Steve seemed almost...nervous. And that made me more than a little wary.

"Is there a problem with the Chevy? Evie?" I asked, still puzzled as to why he wanted to car share with me, if he was so reluctant to get in.

He shook his head. "I need to talk to you," he said, as he dropped into the passenger seat.

Me? I paused with my hand on the key. Steve's eyes followed the few people leaving the lot.

"What's up?" I asked. "Is this about the job? You don't like working here?"

"Huh?" He came back to his surroundings. "Oh. It's okay. No, it ain't that. The thing is...Uh. Here's the thing..."

I waited.

"I didn't say anything yet. To Soda, or... I thought I'd ask you first. 'Cause I kinda been here before and I didn't handle that so well and—"

"_Steve_. What in Heaven's name are you talking about?"

He swallowed. "Lynette. You don't know about Lynette, do ya?"

"Know what about her?"

Steve held my eye for the first time in the whole conversation. "She's running around on Darry."

I stared.

"I mean, you're working with her an' all. Chicks talk. I mean—"

"No!" I sat back. "I wouldn't keep something like that a secret. What do you take me for? How do you know anyhow?"

He told me he'd seen her, cozied up in the stairwell with a guy, someone he described as 'some asshat in a fancy blue suit and pointy boots.'

"The paint guy." I clapped my hand over my mouth. Steve's eyes narrowed.

"You know him?"

I nodded. "I think you're right. What are we gonna do?"

"_We_ ain't gonna do nothin'. _I_ am gonna tell Darry."

I squeaked in embarrassment. "You sure? Why'd you ask me first?"

Steve motioned for me to start the engine. "Yeah. I'm sure. An' I didn't think you'd be like that. I was just...checking. Sorry. It gets complicated when it gets into 'who knew what' and 'how much'. Believe me, I know." He cracked the window and sucked in some of the cold air. "Better for everyone if the big guy only blames me."

Not that Darry was the kind to shoot the messenger anyhow, but it went some way to making me see Steve in a different, more favorable, light. As it turned out, Darry didn't even seem particularly upset. Part of me wondered if he'd known, or at least suspected for a while.

And when he confronted Lynette, she up and left to go live with the paint salesman and damn, if she didn't up and leave the office too. Uncle Jim's old secretary wanted to come back to work, part time, so I was kind of in charge. That worried me—not because I couldn't do the work. I discovered I'd been doing most of it anyway; Lynette had spent way more time filing her nails than filing invoices—but because I didn't want to leave Uncle Jim in the lurch when I gave up work myself.

Soda and I were saving hard. He was determined we were doing it 'right', still. 'It' being marriage and a family. Admittedly, he also got a lot of mileage out of the fact that Two-Bit and Steve seemed incapable of planned parenthood – not one of their four children had been intended, even if they were all welcome now they were here. Still, it was tough, keeping to our saving-to-make-it-perfect schedule, when Elle gave birth to Kimberley and Evie had Matt and Curt. They were all so cute.

I pulled myself back to the present; I could hear a baby crying nearby but it didn't sound like one of the twins, who were pretty chilled little dudes. It was probably three month old Caroline, which would put Audrey on edge even more. I imagined a whole gang of my aunts helping out Cole as he juggled the baby and their two year old. Unless Paula had got Jacqueline in with her two and the other older kids—since Paula taught Sunday school, she'd probably have them all happily coloring or something by now.

There was a burst of laughter the other side of the door and Evie caught my eye and grinned; Two-Bit was treating the whole occasion like Thanksgiving, Christmas and a vacation rolled into one. And that was fine by me. I felt the same.

The only 'vacation' the guys had been on recently was actually more like a labor camp. At the beginning of the year, Barratt had thrown me and Soda for a loop, by offering us a house on his property. The ranch had always been a family concern, but Barratt's family wasn't getting any bigger; he'd lost two brothers and his uncles were either retiring or dying off. It didn't seem like he was getting married any time soon, so he'd probably just live in his parents' place until it became his.

At first I thought he was talking about the old bunkhouse, which I'd seen being used by the assorted wranglers who rotated through at busy times of the year. It looked like an overgrown shed and smelled—the one time I'd walked near enough—like the worst kind of locker room. But, once he got done laughing at me, Soda drove us down past the main house and out through the paddocks, almost looping back towards the road. There was a little farmhouse tucked in under some big old redbuds. It had its own meadow and a couple of toy barns. It was like a play set.

"This was the original ranch house. Think Barratt said his great grandpa built it, or something. The family moved on up to the big house when they got some money behind 'em, I guess. His great uncle lived out here, before he got sick." Soda was waiting on my reaction, I could see.

I climbed out of Soda's car and walked over to the house.

"I know," he went on, "I know it means you'd have to drive to work. But if we get a place in town, I'd have to drive out here, so unless we get somewhere in the middle—"

I turned around from peering into the window. "I don't think there's a stove in this kitchen."

"We'd fix it up. The rent Barratt's talking about is nothin'. We could get new ones, stove an' fridge, an'...whatever you want."

"Is there a key? To see the rest?"

His face lit up. "It's not locked."

"We gotta be married, for you to carry me over the threshold?" I barely got the words out before he scooped me up and barreled us through the front door. Even laughing and kissing couldn't distract us indefinitely from the fact that the place was filthy and there were rodent nests in every corner.

"I like cats," declared Soda, as he disturbed an actual mouse in one of the closets and very nearly jumped out of his skin. "I think we'll get a cat."

"At least one," I agreed. "I hope they won't mind the smell of paint."

And boy, was there a smell of paint. The guys camped out at the house—their 'vacation', complete with camp fire, until the stove was delivered—and put up new dry wall, new shelves, wallpaper, painted every single room. Uncle Jim grumbled that we were clearing out all his stock. Didn't stop him giving me a 'family discount' that was real helpful. By then the 'family' connection went for both of us since Darry was now assistant manager. He never got to be Steve's boss though. Once he was driving again, Steve went back to working on cars. He and Evie had plans.

Mom came down with a trunk full of kitchenware, that she insisted had been on sale and a quilt she'd been making since Soda and I got engaged. It was very similar to the heirloom quilt that Audrey and I both had our eyes on, and I smiled at the thought of another generation fighting over who would get this one of Mom's.

When she'd inspected the little kitchen and the littler bedrooms, she stopped in the smallest one of all, peering out at the blossom on the trees outside.

"Well now, this'll make a fine sewing room." Her eyes twinkled. "In the short term." I smiled back at her.

Someone had worked a little magic and quietened whichever baby it was that had been yelling. A face peeked round the side of the door in front of me. It was Chris.

"Mom says it's time." And Mom was right. The music started up.

I nodded and he disappeared again. Audrey kissed me, tweaked my veil and opened the door. Evie ducked behind her, flicked my veil back the way I wanted it, shot me a wink, and followed Audrey inside.

"You good to go, Joey?" Sam held out his arm. "I got the truck right outside if—"

I elbowed him. "Shut up."

He grinned. "Just checking."

Everyone was standing, faces turning, smiles growing, which threw me for a second as we walked into the church. It meant I had to take three paces before I could see all the way down the aisle. Suddenly 'stressed' or 'nervous' or 'something' seemed the way to go.

And then everything was okay. Everything would always be okay.

The only face I could see was Soda, waiting for me.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Well, we're back to the future! I'm so happy to share some of the stuff that didn't quite fit into my Evie epilogue - it's felt mean, to have all this future in my head but not tell everyone! This isn't finished, no 'complete' just yet (in case that sounded final) but I wanted to thank everyone who has hung on in there, to get this far. I hope you like the way this plays out.**

* * *

**Soda**

**Late March 1971**

Even though I worked within spitting distance, Jo was home first, like always. And she'd started on dinner, like always. I reached around as I peered over her shoulder, snagging a carrot stick from the little pile she was chopping.

But Jo didn't react, didn't slap my hand playfully and tell me to wait for the meal. Didn't tell me to go clean up. Nothing.

"Everything okay? How was work?" I asked.

She paused, the knife resting on the counter top. Then her head dropped and her shoulders started shaking.

"Jo? Honey, what is it?" I tossed the half eaten carrot aside and turned her around.

She tried to tell me, 'nothing', but I made her look at me and she blinked through the tears. "I got my period."

Oh.

Shit.

To be honest, I was still getting used to the fact that we talked about this side of things. Chick things. Living together, sharing a bathroom cabinet, had made sure that certain subjects were more out in the open than they had been before. When we were dating, I'd mainly worked through various 'not the right time for fooling around' clues. But there was no disguising the subtext of this.

"Was it late this time?" I wondered aloud—she was even more upset than she had been last month.

"Not really. You know me, fucking 'clockwork'." The bitterness in her voice was worse to hear than the cursing. "I just really thought...this time..."

"It's okay," the words sounded hollow even to me, as I wrapped my arms around her. "It ain't that long—"

"Nine months! Soda, I don't know anyone who didn't fall within _nine months_, if they were trying."

"So we try some more." I had to say something, to make her feel better. "I mean, we only just got married, really—"

"We _waited _to get married, and we _saved _to get married, exactly so we could start a family right away. Right now." Jo pushed away from me, angrily. "And what the doctor said is bull—"

"You went to the doctor? About this?"

Her lip started wobbling again. "He said it ain't even a problem, until we been trying a year or more. Said he won't even do any tests yet." _Tests? _"But I know there's something wrong! If we'd made a honeymoon baby, like we wanted, like we said, it would be here..."

Oh. Yeah. Nine months married. That's why she was more upset this time around. I remembered laughing on our wedding night, joking that the drug store would wonder why their sale of rubbers had gone down. Remembered lying together, looking at the stars, so happy that we were starting the next stage in our lives. Counting, guessing what birthday our baby might have.

I reached for Jo again, but she moved away, back to the counter top.

"This dinner ain't gonna cook itself."

I took the knife from her hand. "I can do it."

"Good." She turned for the door. "I ain't hungry anyway."

xxXxx

**August 1971**

I looked in the direction Barratt was pointing. Technically, we were checking the fences down by the road. Unofficially, that gave us a great opportunity to put a couple of new Paints through their paces. They were as fast as they were pretty and I'd been trying to persuade him not to trade them on. I reckoned I might be able to persuade Jo that Dodge was getting lonely, in our little paddock.

Back a few months, I'd misheard one of the wranglers call a stallion 'Two-Ten'—he'd said 'two ton' 'cause the beast was huge—but it had given me a great idea, along the lines of Jo's family horses; I was going to call all mine after cars. I took Dodge on as a project just after that, taught him some manners and now he was coming along real nice. I patted the Paint, wondering if she was more of a 'Chevy' or a 'T-bird'.

"Looky here."

I followed Barratt as he walked his horse over to the figure coming up the turn to the ranch.

"We ain't hiring," he called out. This wasn't the first hobo to make his way along the dirt road, looking for a handout or something to lift.

The figure—a typical drifter; skinny guy in a torn Army surplus jacket—stopped and dropped his back pack. He squinted up, his hand shoving his long hair back and shielding his eyes.

"Looking for someone. Soda Curtis."

I stared. "Joe?"

"Soda, that you? Fuck, didn't recognize you with hair." _Me_? Joe was somewhere in there, behind the shaggy curls and the thin face, but the more I stared at him, the more surprised I was that I'd recognized him at all. He tapped his temple. "Had your address, or half of it anyways, tucked away somewhere up here. No one at the house, but a neighbor told me you were living out this way."

My eyes went up the track behind him. "You walked? From town?"

He snorted. "I walked from fucking Texas, man. Well, in between hitches. Y'know."

Barratt was looking patiently between us, so I introduced them. Even then, it was only when I took Joe up to the house and did the same thing again that I realized. Joe and Jo. Ha.

Jo grinned. "Well, I guess I can remember that name."

"I been going by J.D. if that's any help. Or just Fielder." Joe shrugged. "Too many 'Joe's in the fucking infantry. Oh." He blinked hard. "Beg your pardon. I forgot how to be around proper company."

"And you think this one talks like an angel?" said Jo, with a smile at me. I figured my beautiful wife was being funny, putting him at ease. I hoped. I barely cussed around her. Hardly at all. For some reason I had a flash of Darry's voice, saying 'Soda!' in that tone he could get on him.

When Jo disappeared inside, I told Joe how surprised I was, to see him. He nodded but didn't offer any information. We sat on the porch. Box skidded around the side of the house, chasing one of the cats, then forgot his mission and nudged his nose into my hand, wanting attention.

"That's one...weird looking hound."

I grinned, scratching behind Box's ears until he melted into a puddle of adoration. Most people thought Boxy was weird looking; I thought he had character.

"You get my letters?" Joe asked. I said I had.

"Only up to...the news about Jeff."

The silence hung between us, until Jo came out for long enough to deliver a couple of beers. Joe lit up a weed and sucked on it, staring off into the distance.

"Didn't seem a lot of point, after that," he said, so long after my comment about Jeff dying, I practically jumped. I was almost sure he was talking about the point of writing, not anything more...general. I wondered why he'd felt the need to visit me, in that case.

"How long have you been home?" I asked. He blinked.

"Stateside? Or _home_? That didn't really work out, when I got back. Figured I'd see a little of the country and, what d'ya know, I saw a sign for Tulsa and thought of you." He cracked the beer and chugged it.

I blurted what had been nagging at me. "You lost your stutter."

His eyes rested on me. "I did that. Guess it got shot out, or shit out of me, somewhere."

"You got shot?"

For the first time, a ghost of a smile twisted his lip. "Little bit. D'ya remember that fucker at Sill, used to tell us to hold onto the first aid packs? Might have to look him up, too. Guess I owe him a drink, or three. How about you? You seem to be walking okay."

I waved his question away, still reeling from the idea of anyone getting a 'little bit' shot.

When I asked him, over dinner, if he wanted to stay with us a while, Joe looked surprised. I guess that wasn't why he'd looked me up either. Jo pointed out that we had a couple of spare bedrooms, so it was no problem—and hell, but I had to keep my eyes off her, when she said that—but Joe insisted he'd rather sleep in the barn.

"You can't smoke out there," I said reflexively.

"Well, I haven't burned one down yet. Not unless you count fucking VC huts, anyhow," he said, with a grimace. "But, if it's all the same to you, I'd be more comfortable. I'm not what you'd call house trained—" He blinked, at Jo's shocked face. "I don't sleep much, I mean. Liable to be up and walking around. Wouldn't want to disturb you folks."

He had a bedroll with him, but was at least persuaded to take some blankets and a pillow from us.

"He doesn't smile much, your friend," was Jo's observation, when we turned in. I walked past the window, to join her in bed, catching sight of Joe, who was sitting on an upturned crate—outside the barn—chain smoking.

My friend? There wasn't much I even recognized about Josiah Fielder, never mind claiming friendship with him. I thought about what he'd said, about not really going home, wondered where Steve would be, if we hadn't dragged him back to himself.

xxXxx

Labor Day weekend being the twins' second birthday meant that Steve and Evie had serious family shit to juggle. Battle of the grandmas, and all that. So Steve volunteered our place for a more relaxed hang out, the week before, even though that meant everyone had to drive out. It did give the kids more room to run wild, I said to Jo. She seemed happy enough but I was watching her carefully.

As the boys swarmed around our legs, trying to catch the cats—who had the sense to book it—and the dog—who didn't, and had his ears yanked as reward—Evie exclaimed over the food that Jo had set out in the kitchen, while Jo did that chick thing of pretending it wasn't nothing, when I knew she'd been cooking for two straight days. She thanked Evie for the armful of flowers she'd brought.

Steve smirked. "You know she gets 'em for 'cost', right?"

"It's still a lovely thought," said Jo quickly, before the frown Evie directed at him got worse.

We two headed out onto the back porch and I handed Steve a beer, introducing him to Joe who was perched up on the railing, leaning on the end post. They nodded at each other and passed the time of day.

From inside there came a piercing shriek, as one of the twins objected to something. Steve sat down on the bench he'd helped me fix up and took a swig of beer. There was a crash, a matching cry, then Jay's little voice joined in with his brothers, at top volume. I caught the words, _'not fair'_ and _'mine', _before I heard Evie yell for quiet. Without success.

"Steve!" Evie's voice flew out the window.

Steve shouted over his shoulder, without getting up, "_Mind your ma, son."_ The noise dropped significantly.

Evie appeared at the back door, with Matt—now sniffing grumpily—on her hip. "'_Son_'?" she said in disbelief. "That's all you got? You even know which one was in trouble? Or why?"

"They're all quiet now, ain't they? What's it matter?" was Steve's reply.

Evie marched over and deposited Matt on Steve's lap, then turned to Jo who was behind her with Curt. She thrust him into my arms. "Watch 'em," she snapped. "I'll be helping Jo." She strode back into the kitchen.

"Hell, man, you coulda warned me to duck and cover," Joe drawled. "Your old lady packs some ammo."

Steve rolled his eyes and moved his beer away from Matt's grabbing fingers. The toddler's face set in a familiar scowl and he looked like he was going to yell, when—

"Greetings, people! The party can officially start." Two-Bit came around the side of the house.

"There ya go." Steve deposited his son on the floor. "Go play with your little friend." Curt squirmed to be out of my hold, too. The porch was only a couple of steps high and didn't slow them down.

"Kimmy's inside with Elle..." Two-Bit started "...but you're talking 'bout me, ain'tcha, Randle?" He crouched down and opened his arms, accepting the twins' enthusiastic greeting and pretending to be wrestled to the grass, as they giggled and climbed all over him.

"Uncle Soda!" Jay ran out of the house, with a cookie in one hand and a carrot in the other. "I think the pony is hungry, Uncle Soda!" High volume and higher enthusiasm.

In a pretend serious voice, I told him ponies couldn't eat cookies. Jay chortled in delight, cramming the cookie in his mouth. "Nah. This!" He waved the carrot at me, spraying crumbs all over.

I nodded. "Oh. Yeah, he likes carrots." I stood up and beckoned for him to come with me, over to the corral. Jay did his best to climb up the fence, until he was on a level with me, and I steadied him with one arm, as Dodge ambled over to us. I broke the carrot in half and put my hand under Jay's. "You remember, how to keep your hand flat?"

"Yeah, I know it." He screwed up his nose, 'eww'ing in delight as Dodge slobbered all over his little palm. He stretched as far up as he could reach, to smooth and pet the colt, then threw his arm around my neck to keep his balance. "I think Dodge will like to come an' live at my house," he declared, leaning against me. "I think he will like it there."

I pretended to consider this. "Where's he gonna sleep? In your room?"

Jay nodded enthusiastically. Luckily, a well timed, extravagant stream of piss from Dodge provided a perfect example of why he would be a terrible roommate—whilst delighting Jay's five year old sense of humor, so he wasn't disappointed.

I tucked him round onto my back, for a piggyback to the house, promising him a 'real' ride later.

"An' the twins is too little," he announced, half hopeful, as I let him down. I told him that wouldn't be very fair, it practically being their birthday and all.

I added a sweetener though. Jay didn't like to be lumped in with 'the babies'. "Y'know, Barratt's gonna come by later, you can ride with him on his real big horse, if you like."

Steve snorted, as Jay shot off across the grass, to where Two-Bit was already at the picnic table. "Yeah. That's peachy, Soda. Get the kid up close with the fairy," he muttered.

Evie, who was walking past with a jug of lemonade, paused long enough to cuff him around the ear. "Don't say that! An' be nice, when Barratt's here."

Joe watched the pair of them, without blinking.

By the time Darry and Pony showed up, everything had been set out and we fell to. Elle had brought cake and I was just getting ready to eat mine, when Kimmy scrambled up onto my lap. One of her little red-blonde pigtails was coming loose already. She stuck her finger into my cake and scooped up a mound of frosting.

Elle tried to tell her to stop, but Kimmy just grinned and licked her finger clean. "Like she didn't eat her own bodyweight in chocolate while we were baking it." Elle sighed. I grinned back and used my own finger to 'test' the frosting. Kimmy giggled.

"Swing me, Uncle Soda." She climbed up to standing on my lap, pointing at the swing I'd set up in one of the trees. All her 's' sounds came out as 'th', but I got the message, even without the puppy dog eyes she was using on me. She was only three months older than the twins but plenty smart when it came to getting her own way. Maybe it was a girl thing.

As I stood up, to take her over to the swing, I shot a quick glance at Jo. She was chatting happily enough to Darry and Evie.

xxXxx

The Randles finally ran out of steam and headed for home, one twin already asleep and the other not far off. Even Jay was tired enough not to put up more than a token protest.

Pony hitched a ride back to town with Two-Bit and Elle, much to Kimberley's delight; she snuggled up to him in the back seat, like he was her own personal cushion. I asked him to stay longer but he was meeting—of all people—Curly Shepard, who'd he run into earlier in the week. Curly was fresh out of jail, apparently, and I saw Darry's hackles rise at the idea of the two of them on the town.

Pony shook his head. "Curly's different now. I dunno if he got religion or something, but he said he just wants to hang out. We won't be knocking over any liquor stores, I promise." He winked.

"See. _That_. Why is that funny?" complained Darry. Pony just cheerfully waved goodbye. I thought it was a good thing that, college or no college, he was still grounded in the North side, still kept up with his old buddies. But I wasn't about to argue it out with my big brother.

Jo refused any help with the dishes, said she had it all under control, so Darry and I took a walk down through the trees, wandering towards the swimming hole. There was some reason he'd stayed back, I was sure. And I wanted to talk to him anyway.

"So, listen," he said eventually, "I've been thinking about the house. Wondering if I oughta sell up."

Wow. I swallowed past the instinctive reaction I had, to tell him the obvious, to blurt out something about Mom and Dad. "That why you've been fixing it up?" I asked instead.

He shook his head. It was real twilight and I could only see his eyes when he looked right at me. "Nah. That's been a...hobby, I guess. Being on my own there so much. And now Pony's starting his final year, he might not come back at all." He tugged a leaf from an overhanging branch. "But, you an' Pony get some say, of course. What do you think?"

"Where'd you wanna move to? Some bachelor pad uptown?"

"Yeah," Darry deadpanned. "That's exactly what I was planning. A penthouse with a rooftop pool and wet bar." He clicked his tongue on his teeth. "I don't know. Just...if something came up."

I jumped on his hesitation. "Something? Or some_one_?"

He couldn't stop himself grinning. "Had the freakiest thing happen. Bumped into someone from high school. At work, of all places. She's a decorator, like a 'designer', for new developments like they're building down there in Jenks..." He seemed to realize he was babbling.

"Uh huh. Sold her some paint, did ya?"

"How is it possible you made that sound dirty?" He shoved me lightly and I chuckled.

"That where she wants to live then? Jenks? You moving there?"

"Hell, no. I dunno." Darry shrugged. "Like I said, we just bumped into each other. I didn't even ask her out yet. I'm just spit-balling, about the house."

I nodded. "Well, it's okay by me. I don't care where you live. Ain't like I didn't move out first." And if I could cope with Pony being away, a semester at a time, I was sure I could manage to visit Darry and... "Who, from school, anyway? One of your old cheerleader groupies?"

"No." He laughed at that idea. "She was never a cheerleader. She was on the school newspaper, I think. Her name's Suzanne Fisher."

"Not _Suzanne Fisher from the newspaper_!" I did a real believable gasp.

Darry span around and glared at me. "You did _not_—" but I couldn't keep it up and I burst out laughing.

"No, I never 'dated' any Suzanne Fisher. I only 'dated' one girl who was there same time as you, an' you know all about her. Hey, I was hot, but there's a limit to even my greatness." I dodged sideways, in case he was going to shove me again. "Gimme a break, I was _fourteen_ when you were dating cheerleaders." We walked another few feet, both probably thinking about high school in one form or other.

I decided to use the subject to kind of get around to what I wanted to tell him. "Do you know if Mom and Dad meant there to be so long between us?" Why he would even know, I wasn't sure. I only wanted reassurance that maybe it took a while, sometimes. Maybe they meant me to be born sooner.

Darry shrugged. "I always figured they were getting settled. They were only kids when they had me. I think I was kind of a surprise—What?" He reacted to my own involuntary reaction, which had been to swear at the idea of yet another unplanned pregnancy. "You knew that. That's gotta be why Mom's folks disowned her, 'cause she 'had' to get hitched."

"How come everyone in the freaking world gets knocked up by accident and I can't get it done on purpose?"

"Oh. Are you an' Jo trying?"

I closed my eyes. 'Trying' wasn't even the word any more. Every time I touched her, every time we made love, it was like we were both holding our breath afterwards – Was this the one? Did we do it this time? Did we make a baby? Last month Jo chugged gallons of spinach juice, because she read somewhere that was a help. Before that it was yams. Now she was insisting on lying upside down when we finished, with her legs up in the air. I missed just being able to hold her afterwards. I missed making love because we felt horny, not because the calendar said it was a lucky day. I hated the way hanging out with our friends' kids had become a possible minefield of emotions.

"Yeah," I said with a sigh. "We're tryin'. It ain't happening."

"Oh."

I was about to tell Darry that Jo was lining up a doctor's appointment, to see if there was something wrong with her, when we both heard the low laughter ahead of us and we stopped, surprised. I ducked around a big old oak that was angled towards the bank of the swimming pond. Then I stepped back, so quickly that I bumped into Darry, which made it easier for me to grab his arm and drag him back the way we'd come.

"What gives?" Darry pulled free after a minute.

I mumbled something about someone skinny dipping and I made for home, leaving him no option but to catch up to me. I didn't tell him I'd just seen Barratt and Joe doing something I never wanted to see again.

* * *

**A/N: I hate that I have to qualify this, since I hope it's obvious, but any and all homophobic comments (thanks, Steve...) are meant to be time period reflections and do not represent my own opinions. Personally, I'm very fond of Barratt. :)**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Thank you, guest reviewers and those to whom I can't reply. **

**Barratt (for the person who asked) is Soda's employer, it's his family ranch. He was also Evie's boyfriend, before Steve, so he pops up in my Evie stories (and has his own spin off in 'Lonely, But No One Can Tell' if you want to know why he dated Evie, given that he's gay!) **

* * *

**Jo**

**Late September 1971**

I knew I had to tread real careful, raising the subject with Soda, since there wasn't anything specific I could use as an example, not without breaking a confidence, or causing serious trouble. And that wasn't what I wanted; what I wanted was a quick and easy solution to a nasty problem.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But I just ain't comfortable with him around."

On the surface of things, there wasn't too much to complain about. After all, if I objected to the cussing, I'd also have to ban Steve from the house. And as far as drinking us out of beer went, well, I'd never put forward an argument over Two-Bit being our guest. But neither of those guys were as..._off_ as Josiah. For as much as Steve could rant and rave it was always for a reason and even I had to admit he had his lighter times too. Two-Bit's drinking came with laughter and conversation, not silent concentration on something no one else could see in the distance.

And the rest.

'Uncomfortable' wasn't the half of it.

The trouble was, Soda wasn't really paying attention. He was using the sunlight bouncing off his watch to drive Dale crazy, making him pounce on the flickering light, then shifting it to somewhere else. Although the cats were near identical, I knew it was Dale; Chip was too lazy to chase anything, including mysterious dancing fireflies. He spent most of every day curled up on the end of our bed—so much for the mouse exterminators we'd banked on.

I perched on the arm of the couch and poked Soda in the shoulder. "How long is Joe gonna stick around?"

He shrugged. "What's the problem? He's hardly here, as it is."

"But why is that? He ain't working with you, is he?" After a day or so of casual labor, Joe had declared he wasn't suited to ranch work. Where he spent his days now was open to question. After he found out Soda couldn't party every evening—because he started work so early—Joe disappeared at night as well. Mostly.

Soda shrugged. Now that I had his attention, he seemed as uncomfortable as I did, about the whole thing. I asked if he was nervous of asking Joe to move on.

"Nah. It's just..."

I had a real nasty suspicion that the rest of that sentence was '..._just that he had to go to Vietnam and I didn't._'

Sometimes, just sometimes, my sweet, kind husband was too damn sweet and kind for his own good.

"Look, if I tell you something, will you promise not to be mad?" Stuff 'treading careful', I wanted some kind of solution, even if I wasn't going to get 'quick and easy'. "Don't tell Two-Bit, but when I came home with Elle, yesterday, Joe was wrecked. In here." We didn't bother locking the doors and as our guest—even in the barn—Joe had use of the bathroom and stuff, but I didn't like the fact that he'd made himself at home while Soda and I were out. And the rest.

"So, he smokes a little—"

"Nope," I cut Soda off. "I don't mean the weed, there was...other stuff all over the coffee table. I think he'd been shooting up. He burned one of our good spoons!"

Soda laughed a little. "Are you pissed because he damaged the silverware?"

"No," I snapped. "I'm pissed because he suggested me an' Elle join him."

"What?" He wasn't laughing any more.

"Yeah. And not just doing drugs."

"_What?"_

"Look, I never said anything, because Elle _really_ didn't want Two-Bit to find out. I told Joe to get gone. Just take his shit and get out. I thought maybe he'd take a hint and go for good—" But he was still camped out in the barn.

"Hang on." Soda screwed up his face. "I ain't cool with the smack, no way, but I think you got the rest wrong, honey. If he was wasted, maybe what he said sounded like he was suggestin' something, but he ain't like that."

I told him exactly what Joe had said to me and Elle.

Soda stood up slowly. "I'mma fuckin' kill him."

And that was the other reason I hadn't said anything at the time. For as much as Elle didn't want Two-Bit to take matters into his own hands, neither did I want Soda to react like this.

Sometimes, and only rarely, my sweet, kind husband wasn't sweet and kind at all.

"No, Soda, slow down." I grabbed his arm. "That's not what I'm asking. I just want him to move on, is all."

"Oh, yeah. He'll be moving on. An' if Barratt don't like it—" Soda about bit his tongue, with how fast he shut up.

"What's it got to do with Barratt?"

He shook his head. "Never mind." But I knew when Soda had more to say on a subject and I needled him a little, repeating my question and adding,

"Why were you so sure Joe wouldn't put the moves on me an' Elle?"

"I saw him with Barratt." The words came out real reluctant, I could see, by the way Soda squirmed.

"Whaddya mean, _with_ Barratt?"

Soda shrugged and mumbled and didn't make anything any clearer. That in itself was an answer. I realized I was probably going a bit pink as I worked it out. Then I broke the last confidence, the thing that had made me decide to bring the whole damn subject up.

"But I saw him _with_ Abigail." I watched as it was Soda's turn to put two and two together. "When I brought your lunch on Sunday, up to the big paddock. I cut past the stable yard and they were...making out. In the stable."

"Abigail?" Soda looked stunned. As well he might. Abigail was a long time client, an undergrad at TU who had taken lessons every weekend in her freshman year; she'd said having the luxury of time and money to herself was a novelty and she'd longed to ride, since she was a little girl. She took to it easily enough and now she hired a horse and rode out by herself whenever she wanted. Honestly, she'd always looked a little straight-laced to me, all modestly dressed and no makeup, and I'd figured she wasn't into the partying and other kinds of social activity on campus. Although, I'd revised that opinion, after seeing her wrapped around Joe. Or was he wrapped around her?

Now, with what Soda had said, I didn't know what to think.

I wasn't allowed to go outside with Soda, when Barratt's truck pulled up to drop off Joe. Normally I didn't take too kindly to Soda ordering me around—and truthfully, he didn't even try it very often—but he was so mad, I didn't argue with him when he told me to stay inside. So I couldn't hear what went down between the three of them, but the body language told its own tale; eventually Joe got right up in Soda's face, but it was Barratt who grabbed him and sent him backwards with a punch to the jaw.

Joe staggered, gave them both the finger and stalked off.

When we woke up in the morning, Joe was gone. And so was Soda's car.

**December 1971**

"So, there's something freaky about Christmas, right?" Evie dumped the bags on her bed, then began excavating underneath to make space to store them. "'Cause I kind of like shopping, any other time of year. But this is nuts." I watched her stow the presents we'd been shopping for, wondered if hiding them under the bed would actually keep them hidden from an inquisitive Jay—or Steve, for that matter. I wasn't sure the twins understood Christmas yet. Steve had the boys with him, on pain of death from Evie, to let her get Christmas all sorted.

She stood up and dusted off her hands. "Coffee? Or something stronger?"

I told her coffee would be fine and she groaned. "See, now I'll feel like a lush if I have a beer. Bad enough that Elle swore off anything stronger than warm milk."

"Is she still feeling sick?" I followed Evie to the kitchen, where she started the coffee and settled on cookies, instead of alcohol, as her treat.

"Yup. As a dog—which is weird, since she wasn't so bad with Kimmy. Maybe this one's a boy, huh? But the worst thing is, she hadda leave the gift buying to Two-Bit. You just know he's going to clear out the toy department at Vandevers, that sweet little Kimmy has him wrapped around her sweet little finger..." She chuckled, reaching into a high cabinet where she had 'secret' cookies.

I nodded along.

"Well, I'm cleaned out now, savings an' all, so the boys'll get what they're getting. "

"Do you need...I mean, if there's something you wanted to get them, I could—"

"No! That ain't what I'm sayin'!" She pushed a mug towards me, poured her own. "You an' Soda are plenty generous to them. They won't be complaining, come Christmas morning." Evie pulled a face. "It'll be mayhem, come Christmas morning, that's what it'll be. I told Elle she was crazy, she oughta stick at one quiet little girl, like Sarah, I wouldn't wish—What?" She let go the pack of cookies she'd been ripping open and stared at me.

I wiped away the one traitorous tear that had escaped.

"Jo? What'd I say? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It ain't you, it's me, being stupid. I just wish I had the same problem."

"Well, you will do, one day." Such confidence. "And then you'll be sorry what you wished for. Ha! It's like you don't even remember seeing me wrecked from no sleep, with baby puke in my hair."

I burst into tears.

Evie sat down and grabbed my arm. "Jo! What the hell is it?"

"I want a baby," I wailed.

"Well..." Evie blinked.

"An' it ain't happening an' the frigging doctor keeps saying 'relax' an' I did everything he said to, on the charts an'—"

"Whoa. What doctor? What charts?"

I scrubbed my face. "Didn't you wonder why we never had kids yet? You know we wanted them."

"Well, sure, but there's no law saying it's gotta all be in a rush, like me an' Steve. I figured you guys were enjoying some time to yourselves."

I practically spat out the coffee I'd sipped to try and get a hold of myself. I shook my head miserably. "It just hasn't happened."

Evie chewed her lip. "Like, are you sure? 'Cause when Sarah had her miscarriage, she said it was like a real heavy period...maybe you're falling and not even knowing..."

"I don't think so. I never even missed by a few days."

She asked me what the doctor had said. I told her he'd checked me over, in every possible embarrassing way, made me keep a diary of my dates—even though I'd already been doing that, he would only count the months under his supervision—and worst of all,

"He asked if we were doing it properly."

Evie's eyes bulged.

"Apparently some people think they're having sex, when they ain't."

Despite her best efforts, Evie snorted with laughter. I had to smile too. It hadn't been funny at the time, when Doctor Davis had made me confirm that, yes, I knew what 'ejaculation' meant and where it was supposed to take place. I couldn't believe there were people that clueless in the world, but he said they existed.

Evie suddenly gasped and clapped her hand across her mouth. "Shit, Jo. I ain't done nothin' but complain about the boys all afternoon. You must think I'm a complete bitch."

I shook my head. "Of course not. I know you love the boys."

"So...you got checked out? And now the doc says to 'relax'? He must not think there's anything wrong." She patted my arm encouragingly.

"He said there wasn't nothing on my blood work, except I was maybe a little anemic." Which was grossly unfair, given the assorted 'miracle fruit and veg' I'd been shoveling down.

"Jeez." Evie sympathized with me, for having to take iron tablets. She really had been run down after the twins, even if her stories and complaints were all in fun now. "But maybe that's it. You'll be all fixed up before y'know it."

I asked her to keep it all to herself and gave her a smile, to reassure her. It didn't do anything for me.

**January 1972**

I was nursing a cold and feeling sorry for myself, otherwise I wouldn't have been at home that afternoon. It's downright scary to think that something so important might never have happened, if I'd manned up and gone into work. Or even if I'd been asleep, or hadn't bothered to answer the door. Of course, I had no way of knowing at the time that one little knock could change my life. Our lives.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said. "I was looking for Sodapop." It still made me smile, how people who didn't know him well said his name, like they might still get told it was all a joke.

I explained that he and Barratt had gone up to see Gary about some stock; Gary scouting out wild natured beasts and Barratt and Soda turning them around was becoming a regular thing. I probably didn't say 'gone to see Gary', I probably said 'away on business' or some such. Mind you, I was pretty hopped up on cough medicine, so maybe I babbled a bit. But I wasn't so much out of it that I couldn't see she was shivering, so I asked her in, offered her a hot drink.

"Do you have tea?" Abigail said, accepting my offer. I boiled enough water for the both of us.

I know it was the first time she'd been in the house—we didn't live so on top of the main stables that customers usually came by. It might even have been the first time we'd done more than pass the time of day. She sipped the tea and petted Chip, who came downstairs at the sound of voices and promptly made himself comfortable on her lap.

I coughed and excused the fact that I had to blow my nose. She smiled.

"Did you try a pinch of cayenne in that honey and lemon?" She nodded at the drink I'd made for myself. "It'll help your nose."

"Yeah, but what's it taste like?" I pulled a face. "Bad enough everyone tells me to put whiskey in."

"Does that taste bad?" She chewed on her lip, before coming around to the reason for her visit. "I was hoping to ask Sodapop if he had an address for his friend. Josiah."

I guess I sounded sharp enough when I answered no, because her face fell.

I realized I hadn't seen her around, for longer than the Christmas break accounted for, when she'd used to be a regular customer. Before Joe.

"How far along are you?" I asked, quietly, then added as she gasped in shock, "Why else would you be trying to look him up, three months after he shot through?"

Abigail started weeping, enough that Chip jumped down and strolled away, indignant that she'd dripped tears on his fur. I passed her the box of Kleenex and she scrubbed at her face.

"He said he was being careful." The cry of who-knew-how-many girls, over the years. "He said this wouldn't happen."

"Uh huh. Have you been to a doctor?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell anyone on campus. My father's a minister!"

"No doctor's gonna tell your dad. You need to know for sure. You need to make sure everything's okay."

"Like what?" Her eyes were wide.

I shrugged. All my information on that front was second hand, after all. Vitamins? Blood pressure? Whatever it was that doctors sorted out for pregnant women.

"Abigail, I think you need to accept that Joe ain't coming back. He...left here with some bad feeling. Stole our car, some money from Barratt. I think Soda knew where he was from originally, but he fell out with his family before he landed here, I don't think he'd go back there."

She nodded. "He said that." Well, at least they'd had a conversation.

I asked her, obliquely, if she had any 'plans', if she was looking for him because she needed money. Gradually it dawned on her what I saying.

"Oh! No! No, I have money, that's not...I wouldn't..I _couldn't_. But I don't want it either..." Her eyes welled up again. "I _can't _have a baby. My family would never forgive me. And I was going to teach, I want to be a teacher. I should be graduating this year. I have exams..." She started crying again.

My head was pounding. All I wanted to do was to curl up on the couch. But I reached over and patted her arm and told her everything would be okay. Because, really, what the hell else was there to say?

xxXxx

**June 1972**

The pick up that had replaced Soda's car was outside, so I had no reason to think he wasn't somewhere on the property, even though there were no lights on at home. Dinnertime came and went. Even that wasn't so unusual, working on the ranch was never a nine-to-five kind of job, although if it was a busy time or if an animal was sick—the usual reasons for late night work—I would most likely have known about it.

It got so late that I started to worry. I couldn't remember whether Dodge and Chevy had been in the corral, or not, when I pulled in. If one of them was gone, it would explain Soda's absence.

I called Box to come with me and he wove in and around my path, as I crossed to the stable. I clicked my fingers to make him pay attention; I didn't want him chasing off after a squirrel or anything. Both horses were in the corral and didn't react to me or the dog, but Box shot off into the stable anyway.

Sighing, I followed and that's when I heard him.

Soda was sitting with his back to one of the stall doors, halfheartedly scuffing the dog's ears as it greeted him. He sniffed mightily. His face was tear streaked.

"Are you okay, baby? Are you hurt? Is it your knee?" I couldn't work out why he was all hunched up on the ground. And how long had he been there?

He shook his head. "It's fine, don't worry." He looked up, frowning. "Shit. What time is it?"

"You missed dinner. Luckily, Boxy wasn't hungry for yours." He didn't smile back at my teasing. What he did was to haul himself up as far as the nearest hay bale and promptly drop back down again. I started to wonder if he was drunk.

"What's going on?" I asked, joining him on the bale.

"I'm...I'm so sorry, honey. I'm just so fucking _sorry_." The words tore out of him, like they were ripping him open. "I love you so much. You know that, right?"

_What had he done, to be so sorry?_ I held my breath.

Soda put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"I can't believe all the shit I made you go through. Aw, Jo. I'm so sorry."

"Stop saying that and tell me what the hell you're talking about," I snapped, the worry making me tense.

"The doctor."

I blinked. "Next week, we're going back next week." The focus of the tests had shifted, from me to him, but Soda's blood work hadn't even shown him to be anemic. He'd had to go in by himself last week, but we were supposed to see the doctor together again the next visit.

He shook his head and looked me in the eye for the first time in the whole conversation. "They called me in, this afternoon. It's me. It's down to me. There's not a thing wrong with you, honey, I'm the defective one."

My heart broke at the anguish on his face.

"What—" I didn't get any further.

"That's what the jacking off in the cup was for. Can you believe it's someone's job, to look at that stuff under a microscope? To count up all the little swimmers? Guess they had an early finish the day they looked at mine."

"Oh, Soda—"

"So, I reckon it'd be like getting a refund, right? You was sold defective goods, you can get a divorce—"

"Soda!" I tried to take his hand, but he moved sideways. "Just slow down and tell me what the doctor said."

Tears brimmed in his beautiful brown eyes. "He said, '_Sorry_'. '_I'm sorry to have to tell you, Mr. Curtis_...' you're a fucking mule." He launched himself to his feet, making Box jump. When he kicked the side of the stall, the dog scampered out of the stable. Soda kicked and kicked at the wooden wall, slammed his fist into the door over and again, until it rattled.

I couldn't move. I ought to go to him, stop him hurting himself, make him tell me properly what the medical explanation was and what we needed to do next, I knew that. But I was afraid that if I moved I'd break apart. If I breathed, I might shatter into a thousand pieces. If I opened my mouth and let a word out, it would make it true.

As it went, I didn't need to get up. Soda wrenched himself around and fell to his knees, burying his face in my lap and crying out his apology, as I sat there, stroking his hair.

Eventually he stood up, slowly this time and refastened the door he'd shaken loose. He topped up the feed bins and checked the water trough. And he walked back to the house like he was a hundred years old and headed straight up the stairs, leaving me to turn off all the lights.

I sat on the edge of the bed as he showered. He hadn't said another word and I wasn't sure if I was more afraid of him staying silent or starting to talk.

When he hesitated on seeing me, I wanted to cry. I could see he had to make himself cross the room.

"Okay. I ain't yelling and kicking no more," he said levelly, as he sat down next to me. "I'm talking quiet so's you know I'm talking sense. This, _me_, this ain't what you signed up for. So it's okay, if you want out. I get it."

I picked up his hand and kissed the scrapes he'd inflicted on his knuckles, kept it tight in my grip as I said, "You weren't payin' attention."

He blinked.

"I don't know about you," I told him quietly, "but I distinctly remember the words 'for better or worse'. _That_'s what I signed up for."

"Not this much worse."

I nodded, biting hard on my lip but failing to stop it wobbling.

We climbed into bed and held onto each other, taking turns at weeping for the loss of something we'd never even had; mourning a future that wasn't going to be.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Hey, Panda Bear, thank you and congrats on college! I'll check out that movie.**

**Josefin. Just :) :) :)**

**So, this slots in after the epilogue to 'Love me Two Times', when Soda has told Steve his sad news. And the conversation about Tim will make more sense if you have read 'Adaptation', which crosses over to this universe, but it doesn't matter too much at this point. **

**And... more time jumps ahead. I hope it works. So much to fit in!**

* * *

**Soda**

**July 1972**

"You gotta stop doin' that, man," I told Steve, as he cut off what he was about to say, for the second time.

He didn't look up from the engine of my truck, but I could tell he _knew_ from the way he froze, although what he came back with was, "Doing what? I'll tell ya what _you_ gotta stop, driving this pickup like these gravel tracks are the fuckin' Speedway."

"Whatever. I'm talking about the boys. And you _not _talking about the boys. Go on with what you were gonna say about Jay."

He straightened up this time, his face worried, but I insisted:

"I'm serious, man. It's not gonna break me, to hear about 'em—Wait! That ain't why you left Jay at home today?"

Steve shrugged. "Don't wanna rub your nose in it."

I scrubbed the back of my hand across my forehead. "It's okay. I mean, it's not okay, obviously, but please don't stop me an' Jo being around them, that'll just hurt in a different way."

He nodded, chewing his lip. "You sure?" I waved a wrench like I was going to clock him—the universal mechanics' sign for 'shut up and get on with it'—so he smiled. At last. "So, Jay says to me, when we get to the garage, 'Is Uncle Tim gonna be there?' 'Is Uncle Tim bringing his motor cycle?'" Steve executed a major eye roll. "_Uncle _Tim? Where the hell'd he get that from?"

I laughed. "Aw, you can't blame the kid—just about every other guy in his life gets the title!" Something struck me. "You did say Tim was handy with a wrench." I waited a beat. "And you did say you wanted to replace Blake the Flake."

"You think Tim-the-hood-come-Hell's Angel is any better?"

"I don't think he wears a cut!" At least he hadn't been, the couple of times I'd seen him around and I was pretty sure it was a full time uniform, if you were in an MC.

Steve wrinkled his nose. "Just 'cause he knows what he's doing on his own machine, don't make him a mechanic."

I shrugged.

"I mean, I'd haveta to see what else he knows."

I dug around in the tool box, pretending I wasn't smiling. Pretending I didn't know how to make my best friend think he'd an idea all by himself.

xxXxx

I wasn't exactly comfortable with the subject, but—despite Steve's smutty comments—Barratt had never said or done anything to make me truly weirded out. It was just that, since Joe, it wasn't a complete secret between us. He probably had no one else to talk to at all, I realized. I wasn't even sure if his own brother knew he was a queer.

We most often talked as we walked the perimeter fences. It was one of the jobs he wouldn't trust to anyone else, not even me, not without he had to double check anyhow, so it made sense for us to build the rounds into the exercise program for any horses who needed it.

Barratt knew about me and Jo now and he'd seemed real sad for us; that was the first time I wondered if he regretted being the way he was, seeing as how he would never have a proper family either. So I asked him outright one day, if he was lonely. If he would like a real...I couldn't say 'boyfriend' that was too freaky, I think I said 'person' in his life.

"And what do I do about it, Soda?" Barratt shook his head sadly. "It ain't like I can walk into a bar and scout out all the guys, is it? Contrary to popular belief, you can't tell by looking at us."

"There's...places. There's that joint down by the old fire station ain't there? Everyone knows—"

"Yeah, 'everyone knows'. Exactly. So, what? I run the risk of being beat up, for being seen going in or out? Or the cops, who 'know' like everyone else, bust the Friday night crowd for the hell of it?" He waved the idea away. "'Sides, the place is full of sad fucks cheating on their wives, and hustlers who'd blackmail you, quick as blow you."

I wondered how he knew that, if he avoided the place.

xxXxx

**August 1972**

'_Baby, I've been keeping a secret.' _

Not something a man wants to hear when he's behind the wheel of a pickup, doing a shade over the limit on the Turnpike. I took my foot an inch off the gas, just to give me time to come up with something smart and sensible to say.

"Huh?" Yeah. Maybe not.

"But I want you to know, it wasn't _my_ secret, so I couldn't really...Although, I guess, I'm involved, so it's mine as well, but—"

"Honey. I'm about to put this vehicle into the ditch. You wanna tell me if I oughta pull over?"

"Sorry."

Out the corner of my eye, I could still see Jo squirming and it occurred to me that maybe she was choosing this moment on purpose, so I was effectively trapped and had no choice about listening. I took my arm from the open window and put both hands on the wheel. She cleared her throat.

"Here's the thing..."

And the 'thing' was completely, utterly and unbelievably...unbelievable. And I did pull over.

"Honest, I never suggested it," Jo said, her eyes swimming as she looked at me. "I just offered her a place to go, where no one would know her. Mom was cool with it. I didn't know this was going to happen, I swear."

Possibly I drove the rest of the way to Jo's family farm. We got there somehow, so I must've.

Here's the thing, from my point of view: Customers come and go. Some kids take to horseback riding, some people can't stand it. Maybe they have a fall and that puts them off. Maybe they move on to driving a car, or oil painting, or some other freaking hobby. I ain't their social secretary, if they stop riding, they stop riding. I have other clients.

I didn't notice that she'd stopped riding.

"Is it legal?" I surprised myself, to be honest, that I thought to ask. But then I was remembering all the shit that Steve went through, with Jay, and Jay's waste of space birth mother.

Abigail was not a waste of space. She was pretty nearly a Soc, as we used to call the rich kids. Her dad was a minister, she'd been brought up real strict somewhere out by Stillwater, never had a boyfriend, never had a drink even. Not allowed to ride a freaking horse at home, because her mother thought it was 'unladylike' or some such—Jo tried to tell me once that some people thought it broke a girl's cherry, which was the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.

Abigail had worn a lot of baggy clothes and finished up her last year at TU. Qualified to be a teacher. Told her parents the biggest lie of her life and pretended to move to Kansas City for the job she had lined up, three months early. What she did instead was to move to the farm and wait out her pregnancy.

What she did instead was to give birth to a beautiful baby boy and announce that she wanted to hand him over to me and Jo.

I looked at the kid who was going to be my son—who had his mother's dark hair, even if his eyes were blue at present—and before I let myself love him, before I let myself believe that this was happening, this was real, I asked if it was legal.

Everyone nodded. And since 'everyone' included a real lawyer brought in by Abigail, I had to take it for truth. Private adoption. Signed, sealed and delivered. I still hesitated. The box on the birth certificate marked 'Father' had one word typed in it: _illegitimate_.

"I don't know who his father was," said Abigail, with a straight face. The lawyer had no reason to disbelieve her. Jo's mom had no reason to disbelieve her. Jo and I looked at each other and made a silent vow.

See, there was one more detail and that was the one that nearly brought me to my knees.

"I mean it when I say I want to have my own life," said the young woman who had just breathed life back into me and Jo. I suspected she would never be able to understand exactly what she had done for us.

_I never suggested it, it was her idea,_ Jo repeated almost all the way home. The three of us, going home.

"I mean it when I say I want to have my own life, I won't ever go back to Tulsa. But for the birth certificate, I couldn't let him be nameless. And my brother...he died a few years ago. I wanted to name him after my brother. Is that okay? There's nothing stopping you changing it, I know that. But I wanted to call him Patrick."

She didn't know me, past horseback riding chat. We had never been friends. She knew Jo a little better, I supposed, but my beautiful wife was as surprised as I was.

I never wanted there to be a God. Not since Mom and Dad. Because if there was a God, then there was a plan and what kind of fucked up plan was it, to do that to me and Darry and Pony?

But if she didn't know me that well and still she sealed this kid to me, like that, when in my heart I'd only ever been teasing Jo, I knew that one Sodapop Curtis in the world was one Sodapop enough but a guy can still imagine his one day kid carrying his name somehow...maybe there was a plan and who the hell was I to argue with it?

_I never suggested it, it was her idea..._

xxXxx

I mean, obviously, I knew people would be happy for us. But I don't think I'd appreciated how sad they'd been for us in the first place. Their surprise when we got home and started calling—and they started coming over, to see with their own eyes that we weren't yanking anybody's chain, there was a real, live baby in our house and he was ours—their surprise was second only to their relief.

Suzanne wept. But then she was way emotional, due to her pregnant self; she wept over sappy songs on the radio. Not sure if her being knocked up could explain the mist in _Darry_'s eye, when we introduced him to Patrick.

Evie had to cover her sons' ears, since apparently the quantity of disbelief boiling out of Steve could only be expressed by some first class cussing. She made him go out to their car and start dragging in all the stuff she'd brought over. They got to reminiscing about Jay's first night at home, sleeping in a drawer.

It seemed like a long time ago, when Jo and I saved up, so our family would have everything it needed. Everything _nice_. And maybe our dough had dwindled over the months, what with needing the pickup and paying all the doctor's bills, but we still had enough that if Jo wanted everything Patrick touched to be brand new, she could have had that. But for some reason, 'stuff' didn't seem so important any more. A bassinet and a crib donated from Steve and Evie's twins seemed about damn perfect. And after all, they'd been pretty swanky in the first place, thanks to Steve's mom.

Two-Bit made a whole lecture out of assembling the crib, delighted to have something to instruct Darry about. Until Steve pointed out that he'd set one side in upside down.

Nobody thought to question the story that it was an adoption like any other. That Jo and I had applied to some mother and baby home, like all the other desperate prospective parents hoping to erase some girl's mistake.

The boys and Kimmy ran in and out, taking full advantage of everyone's willingness to hand out cookies, and ice cream, and whatever else they could think of to ask for.

It was like a party all over our house, but a party with one difference; for the first time, when all the chicks fussed over tiny sheets and tiny baby suits, Jo was in the middle. I barely got near her and had to settle for sending her smiles across the room, as they cooed over Patrick and bombarded her with advice and suggestions.

And then Elle beat all of 'em on the emotional front, because she got so excited her waters broke on our kitchen floor and Two-Bit had to rush her to the hospital.

"Gonna have a little brother or sister at last, huh?" Evie said to Kimmy as she scooped her onto her lap at the kitchen table. She oh so helpfully pointed to a place where I'd missed mopping up after Elle. I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Sister," Kimmy lisped. We all knew she wanted a sister and _only_ a sister. "We don't need no more boy babies." She pointed at Jo and the bundle in her arms. "We got Patchick now. I'mma have a sister."

"I can hold Patch now," demanded Matt, trying to climb onto Jo's lap.

"Naw!" yelled Curt, who'd shown no interest in the baby at all, until his twin did. "I'mma hold Patch!"

"Yeah, that's 'Pat_rick_'," I told them, as Steve and I disentangled the two of them.

Darry, who'd been rebaptised by my own toddler mispronunciation of his full name, grinned at me. "Too late, buddy."

xxXxx

**September 1973**

I still didn't consider myself a morning person but it was a hell of a lot easier to get up for the horses than it ever was for school or the DX, even if I never had a dawn shift at the gas station. I was even—maybe, possibly—getting to like the real early time when the day was only just starting.

When we were first married, I'd quickly perfected sliding out of bed without waking Jo, starting the coffee, letting out Box, letting in the cats, having that quieter than quiet moment to myself. Which was weird, if I thought about it. Thought about how freaking _noisy_ I used to be, as a kid.

And then there was Patch.

Now, that space between my waking up and Jo having to take over was ours; guy time. Most often I'd go into his room and find him staring at me, grinning a gummy grin. He was pretty cool for a baby; unless he was starving or soaking wet, he didn't seem to wake up yelling. Two-Bit insisted he hadn't gotten to wake up naturally a single time since last year, when Mandy had been born, almost in our kitchen—and now Jenny had arrived as well, he had two miniature alarm clocks, plus four year old Kimmy getting in on the game. She had a bad case of sibling jealousy, which was understandable, since she'd gone from 'slightly spoiled only child' to having two little sisters in the space of barely a year. Two-Bit was a man with a permanent harassed look these days.

I scooped up Patrick and took him downstairs. We had diaper stuff upstairs and down and this way I could let Jo grab a little more shut eye.

Half a cup of coffee in me, I was walking the kitchen with Patch in my free arm, jiggling him while his bottle warmed and he babbled his happy one-year-old's nonsense, when I heard the car out front. I knew it was a car, not Barratt's truck, before I even opened the front door.

"What the...?" Becoming used to being up with the birds doesn't make a person any more sharp at conversation at that time, I guess.

Sam gave me an almost smile. "Hey, Soda. Sorry, I know it's early." He patted Patrick's arm and swallowed hard. "Hey, kiddo."

I woke up enough to move aside and let Jo's big brother in, bringing him through into the kitchen. "Sam, what're you doing here?" He must have set off driving in the middle of the night, it was barely six a.m.

He freaked me out, by wiping his face, very nearly like he was wiping his eyes. "It's...It's something bad. I need to speak to Joey. I'm sorry it's early."

I didn't get to tell him not to keep worrying about the time, because Jo came in, yawning and saying she'd heard a car. She stared at her brother about as hard as I did. Patch said his version of 'Mama' and wriggled to go to her, so I passed him over and slopped coffee into a mug that Sam ignored when I set it by him. I rescued the warmed bottle, as Jo demanded,

"Is it Mom? Sammy, did something happen to Mom?" She clutched at the baby, who squirmed.

Sam shook his head and his eyes filled right up, spilling over as he told her that their mom was okay, but then, "It's Audrey," he choked out. "Her and Cole. They were in an accident. They..." He shook his head.

Jo started crying.

I felt sick to my stomach.

"_Curtis residence?" said the cop at the door. Something was wrong with his expression; he didn't look pissed in a 'coming to arrest you' kind of way. He looked...real sad. _

"_Darry!" I yelled, over my shoulder._

I took Patch back from Jo and let Sam hug her. The poor little kid looked way confused until I set him in his high chair. He grabbed onto his bottle and chugged.

Sam guided Jo to a chair and sat down next to her. "Joey, we gotta go get the girls. We got a call from Cole's boss, I guess they passed all the information back to the base. The girls are in the hospital, but they're okay." Tears streamed down his face.

Jo stood up. "Yeah, okay, lemme—" She seemed paralyzed, looking at the stairway but not moving. "Oh," she looked over at the high chair, "I can't..."

"I got him," I told her. I gave her a hug. "I'm so sorry, honey. So sorry. But it's okay, I got it here. You get dressed. We'll fix how you and Sam can get over to Texas, don't worry." Sam looked wrecked, I wasn't sure he was in any fit state to drive to Sheppard AFB.

When Jo went upstairs, Sam finally noticed the coffee and drained it. He scrubbed his eyes. "Listen, man, I don't know if Joey knows but Audrey put us both as guardians, Jo an' me. I guess maybe, with Cole in the military, they get shit like wills sorted properly and Cole had no family to speak of...But Aud.." He swallowed, got his shit together again. "She wanted the girls to live with Jo. With you two."

I nodded. If Jo had known, she'd never told me and I didn't think it was something she would have kept quiet about. But it didn't matter. Will, legal stuff, whatever, there was no way she wouldn't want to care for her sister's kids.

"Of course. Don't worry about that. Are they really okay?" I asked. "They were in the car?"

He nodded. "A little banged around. The guy didn't go into detail, or if he did, I wasn't listening." He shot me an apologetic look. I held up my hand. I totally got it.

_The cop's face never changed as he said, "Darrel Curtis Junior? I'm afraid I have some bad news..." _It all went fuzzy after that.

Patch banged his empty bottle on the tray of his high chair. I peeled a banana and passed it to him, scuffing his hair. "Okay, little colt, it's gonna be me an' you today."

xxXxx

They were too quiet, that's what it was. For all that our son was generally calm and didn't shriek much, he still babbled and chortled and banged stuff around; you always knew where he was when he was awake.

Three year old Caroline was in Jo's arms when they came in the house and she pretty much clung to her, refusing to even look at me. The cast on her little arm looked so out of place as she clutched a dirty bit of blanket in her fingers, her other hand caught in Jo's hair.

But the broken arm was mending, would be good as new soon enough. The real worry was the dressing on Jacqueline's cheek. Jo said the hospital doctor had seemed certain there would be a scar. It was enough for him to be happy that the glass had missed her eye; he wasn't the one who would have to explain to a five year old that her face might never look the same again.

Neither girl had said a word about the accident, not in the hospital and not to Jo and Sam on the drive.

The house was full. Jo's mom and stepdad drove down, once Sam called them to say he and Jo were on the road home. They all arrived at practically the same time. There would be more arrangements to be made, like Audrey's house needing to be packed up. The funeral. But for right now, all anyone was focused on was the girls.

Evie had come by, with food. I was a bit happier about that when she said Maggie Mathews had made the lasagna—Evie's recipes could still be a bit hit and miss. But she came up trumps with stuff I hadn't even thought about; she brought kids' linen, pink sheets with flowers and rainbows on, that she'd got from her sister, and she made up the beds in our spare room. She'd even scared up nightgowns and hairbrushes and some dolls, things that her niece had grown out of, or didn't want—if Kimmy Mathews was a little spoiled, Evie's niece Toni was the real deal. She probably wouldn't even miss the clothes and stuff.

"I'm sure they got their own, but I didn't know if Jo would have time to pack up much," Evie said, looking around the room. Not 'spare' any longer. It looked real welcoming. She'd 'donated' a few storybooks, board games and a couple of stuffed animals from the boys, and said Elle was going to do the same, since they were going to have to hang on to any hand me downs in the Mathews' house. She'd even bought two tiny pink toothbrushes on her way over. I gave her a hug. She shoved me off and told me not to be a wuss, but I know she got how grateful I was.

She didn't stay past greeting Jo and giving her a hug, telling her that she was real sorry and that she should call any time, for anything.

"That's what I call a useful kind of friend," said Jo's mom, quietly, over the top of Jacqueline's head. She'd taken the little girl to her lap and rocked her back and forth, but still Jacqueline didn't cry. She looked caught between sleeping and waking. I supposed she was in shock.

Patrick had demanded Jo's attention the second he saw her—I realized that was the longest he'd been apart from her since we got him—and he wasn't too happy about sharing her with Carrie. I could see that was upsetting Jo, so I scooped him up and said I'd take him outside, to the stable, which was a guaranteed distraction.

"An' me?" We all froze, at the whisper. Jacqueline blinked up at me. "Can I see the ponies?"

"Sure, honey." I held out my hand. Jo's mom started weeping again.

I walked slow, at Jacqueline's pace. She was nervous, happy to look but not touch when we got to the stable. Patch, of course, wanted to grab Dodge's ears as usual.

"You're my Uncle Soda." It was half a question really. I tried to remember how many places Cole's job had taken his family. They were always pretty far away and I wasn't always with Jo when she went back to the farm for visits, to coincide with Audrey being there. But I guess an uncle with a funny name is memorable even for a five year old who hadn't seen me very often. Jacqueline looked around the stable, then back up to the house. "Is this where you live?"

"Sure is," I answered. "Me, Aunty Jo and Patrick. Two horses, two cats and the silliest dog in the world."

"Is this where I live now?"

"Yeah, honey. This is where you live now."

She frowned. "My mommy and daddy went to Heaven. Because of the truck."

I sat down on a hay bale, standing Patrick between my legs, where he set to pulling out the straws he could reach. "Yeah, I know. My mommy and daddy did that too."

Her little girl eyes fixed on mine and she clambered up to sit next to me. "I want them to come back."


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: I know, I know, it's huge. But I think splitting it would be artificial, so I hope it works. **

* * *

**Epilogue**

**Soda**

**1975**

I looked at the newspaper cutting again, resisting the urge to screw my fist up tight.

"It's gotta be, ain't it? Whatever the name says," Barratt asked for the second time, now that I'd read the short piece.

"Yup," I answered, because Barratt's confusion was my certainty. It wasn't about the police report, which the newspaper was using to sensationalize what had happened. It wasn't even about the picture; a standard mug shot, standard hard eyed stare. Yes, he looked thinner. Yes, his hair was wilder and he'd picked up a scar on his lip somewhere along the line.

It was Joe. No doubt in my mind.

Because the name in the report, which was the name on the previous arrest that had provided the photo and the name he'd still been using when he was killed by a security guard, holding up some bank in some flyspeck town on the Mexican border—and I didn't know why Barratt had been there to see the newspaper and wasn't about to inquire—the name he'd stolen, like so much else, was _Jeff Morgan_.

That seemed like the true measure of how far a man could sink; to use a dead man's—a dead _friend_'s—identity, to try to escape justice.

But then, maybe Joe had moved so far past the concept of decency that it wouldn't even have occurred to him that it was wrong to use the memory of Jeff like that. I remembered challenging Joe that last day, out front, madder than hell that he'd insulted both Elle and Jo but also sad that he'd played Barratt for a fool and trashed our own friendship.

_"What the fuck's your problem, man?" Joe had started, but his initial reaction of defense had swiftly shifted into attack. "Like I give a shit what some pussy draft dodger's got to say. And you," he turned on Barratt, whose face had frozen. "You? You sad and desperate queer. You think I give a shit about any of you?" _

Later, I would tell the news to Jo quietly. I imagined her gut reaction would be one of relief, same as mine. It had always been unlikely that Joe would ever show up again, and even less of a threat that he would recognize Patch—or even do the math about his birthday—but we still worried, even after Abigail had been true to her word, walked away and got on with her life.

On Patch's first birthday, Jo had sent a photo in the mail, only to receive her own, unopened, envelope back a week later inside another that also contained a short, polite note. '_He's your child_' Abigail had written '_Please don't contact me again'_. She also said she was moving to another state and would not give us her new address.

I sometimes wondered what made Abigail so different. So able to cope, or at least go on. If it was the simple fact that she made the choice herself, about giving away her baby, it wasn't forced on her. Then I thought about all the hundreds of girls who must have had the decision made for them and who also went on without going crazy. Then I tried not to think about it again.

**Summer 1976**

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on here?" I folded my arms and stared at the dirt streaked face in front of me. It was so difficult not to smile when Jay scowled and made me feel like a giant, suddenly towering over my ten-years-old-again best friend. Seeing Steve in miniature was a gas. Part of me still wanted to get down on the kid's level and take part in whatever adventure was happening. But, with an inward sigh, I played the grown up instead. "What are you even doin' here? Is your dad here?" I hadn't passed Steve's truck, nor the family Ford. I'd caught sight of a flash of movement as the barn door closed and, thinking it was loose, come over to fasten it and discovered Jay, looking way guiltier than any kid ought to.

He chewed his lip, an obvious delaying tactic. Then he shrugged and went for bravado. "I biked."

"Biked? On your own? Your mom know where you are?" I hoped I didn't sound as impressed as I actually was. Evie would be tearing her hair out, at the thought of Jay negotiating all the roads between their house and the ranch. "Come up to the house, we'll call her. I don't even wanna think about what your dad's gonna say—"

"No!" A new voice from above made me jump. "Don't tell on him. It's my fault." A kid's face edged forwards, almost as if he'd been hiding in the hayloft.

"It ain't his fault. It was my idea." Jay moved to stand in front of the skinny boy who climbed slowly down the ladder.

My heart twitched. Visible even under the caramel colored complexion, the kid's cheek was one huge bruise. And his lip was swollen. That was all I could make out, seeing as he kept his face tilted down, not meeting my eye.

"My idea," Jay was still explaining, all in a rush. "I told Billy he could stay out here, it ain't his fault."

"_Stay_?"

The kid with the bruise scuffed his toe on the dirt floor. "Sorry."

"He ain't mad," Jay hissed at him. "I told you, he ain't like that. They got plenty of room—" he looked up at me, pleading,"—you have, Uncle Soda, you got plenty of room. Billy ain't gonna be any trouble. He can help you out, even. He likes horses...don'tcha?" His expression urged his friend to agree. The kid nodded, eyes on the floor again.

I uncrossed my arms, made my body language as relaxed as possible. "How about we go up to the house, see what cookies your Aunty Jo's rustled up today? Get to the bottom of this." Although I already knew what the story would be. Part instinct and part memory. Maybe I didn't recall the exact first time Johnny Cade had slept on our couch but that particular trick, of not meeting any adult's eye, was something I would never forget.

When the boys were safely tethered to The Mickey Mouse Club, milk and cookies in hand - ignoring and being ignored by the girls but royally pestered by four year old Patch to 'play something, _anything' - _I stepped out onto the back porch with Jo.

"I _know_," I whispered, agreeing with her every concern, but reluctant to admit it. "But you see his face, right?"

She glared and rightly so, I was being unfair. "Don't make me the bad guy, Soda. We could be charged with kidnapping!"

"Sorry, honey." I gave her a kiss. "But what do we do?"

Telling Jay that they had to go back to town was tough; the kid let his sense of betrayal show clearly. I lifted the boys' bikes into the bed of the truck while Jay fetched the stuff they'd stashed in the hayloft. Candy bars and Batman comics. A ten year old's idea of the necessities of life. I felt sick to my stomach.

When I pulled up outside the address—just a couple of streets from Steve's—it looked like no one was home. Billy visibly relaxed until, as I was helping him with his bike, a car squealed to a halt and the kid shrank in on himself again.

"I ain't payin' for no damage," announced the driver of the car as he lurched towards the house. He gestured at the rusty bicycle. "If the little fucker ran into you, that's his look out."

I laid a gentle hand on Billy's shoulder to stop him trailing after the man. "You his dad?" The man was heavy set and very blond.

With a belch, the man turned to face me. "I look like I pump out redskins? He ain't no get of mine. His mother," he used the term like an insult, "shoulda dumped him up on the rez, even if she don't remember which of 'em knocked her up. What's the little bastard done?"

"Is his mom here?"

The guy blinked. "Who the fuck wants to know? You ain't from the State, are ya?"

Perhaps alerted by the man's voice, a sleepy looking woman in a dirty housecoat appeared at the front door. The man snapped at her, "You let them busybodies in again, you stupid bitch?" She didn't seem to understand the question and I realized she wasn't drowsy, she was high.

"It's okay with you, if Billy comes to my nephew's party, right?" I said cheerfully, lifting the bike back into the truck and motioning for the kid to climb alongside Jay again. I rattled off my name and the ranch address, like that would make a difference.

The woman swayed. "What?"

"Keep him, for all I care." The man pushed past her and disappeared inside the house.

I walked up to the woman. "You remember your social worker's name?" I asked, keeping my voice low. I was banking on the man's mention of 'the State', thinking about the times Darry had stressed over inspection day. He'd had nothing to worry about, in comparison; I could smell this house without even going inside.

"Like a cat, man," was the only part of the answer I could make sense of.

"Would you like me and my wife to take care of Billy for you?" I nodded in slow motion and the woman copied, like I wanted her to. "You think that would be a good idea, if Billy spent some time in the fresh air? Like a nice vacation?" The nodding went on. "Yeah? Good. You tell your social worker, huh?" It wasn't anywhere near legal, but just the fact of asking satisfied a sense of obligation, as far as I was concerned.

"It ain't my birthday yet, what party?" Jay demanded, as soon as I climbed behind the wheel.

"Oh, I figured we might have a cook out at ours. It's Cook Out Wednesday Day," I improvised, heading for Steve's place. "I'mma tell your mom right now. And then who knows? It might be Sleepover Thursday."

A small smile of triumph flashed across Jay's face. "Told ya," he hissed in Billy's ear.

xxXxx

Armed with nothing but Billy's full name and address and the dopehead's strange comment, I waited outside the office. It was nothing like a principal's office, I told myself firmly. Besides, I was the responsible adult in the situation, that was the whole freaking point.

_Public Welfare, Family and Children Services, Child Protection, Human Services_... The posters and door signs made for a maze of departments. They brought back something else from school—those dreams where you're sitting an exam you hadn't known about and hadn't studied for.

"Damn," I muttered to myself. "Shoulda just kept quiet and screwed the legal stuff."

"Mr. Curtis?"

I was on my feet so fast, it startled the woman who had spoken and my greeting got mangled into an apology.

"Come in." She led me to a desk, where the nameplate at least reassured me that I was in the right part of the maze. _Miss. R. Nelson. Head of Department._ She held up a manila folder. "So, I pulled the file after Mrs. Randle called and spoke with me." She smiled. "Small world, isn't it, Jay and Billy being friends."

_'I know exactly who you need to see. She still sends Jay a birthday card every year, y'know.' _ Thank you, Evie.

"You can't let him go back."

Miss Nelson nodded thoughtfully. "I believe my colleague was on the point of removing Billy...looks like you beat us to it."

"Yeah, but not to a boys' home. There's no need, he's welcome at ours—"

"Mr. Curtis," her voice was firm, but not unkind. "You have absolutely no connection to this child—"

"Do you know that for sure?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What if we were friends of the family? If his mom was happy for him to stay with us?"

"Are you? Friends of the family?"

I took a deep breath. "Have you asked his mother?"

There was a twinkle in Miss Nelson's eye as she tapped the folder. "Billy's mother's inability to make good decisions is the reason for our concern."

"But she must've said something...you didn't come out and take him off us yet."

"She told Miss Felix she wanted him to go on a vacation, true, but she didn't know your name, referred to you—"

"Felix!" I exclaimed. "The cat!"

"—as 'the fresh air man'," Miss Nelson finished.

"Sorry," I sat forwards. "Just, 'Miss Felix'...Billy's mom told me her social worker was something to do with a cat. I think you have to read between the lines with her. My place, it's out in the fresh air, she meant for me, I mean us, for us to look after Billy." I smiled at the older woman. "Tell me you don't need all the placements you got. You have other kids to look out for, I know that. I promise Billy will be safe with us."

"You aren't properly assessed as foster carers."

"Come assess us. Please. Just don't take Billy away while you're doing it. Come today. Jo's home with the kids, but she'll be happy to see you. You won't believe how happy Billy is. He went swimming for the first time, he did real good..."

Miss Nelson started laughing. "Would you like to know what Evie said to me, on the phone? _'I dare you to say no to him'_." She closed the file in front of her. "Give me your address, Mr. Curtis."

xxXxx

**Summer 1981**

"But when is he getting here?" Patch was hopping with excitement behind my chair.

I checked my watch, like I hadn't just done it five seconds before. "Soon."

Before Patch could ask for specifics, Two-Bit came out of our house, the lead to a boom box trailing behind him as he balanced it on the porch rail. He snapped a cassette into the machine. "Well, let's get the party going!"

"Oh my god!" Kimmy managed to get at least three syllables-worth into her pronunciation of 'gawd', to fully express her mortification. Two-Bit danced on, either unaware that he was killing his oldest daughter by embarrassment or—more likely—not caring.

Kimmy grabbed Jackie's arm and dragged her off somewhere safe from parental humiliation. Jackie was the official teenager now, but Kimmy made no allowances for the year between them. She was a full on drama queen and definitely the boss lady. Twelve going on twenty.

Evie and Jo laughed out loud and Evie said, "I wouldn't want to be their age again, would you? All that angsty shit to go through." She got no disagreement from any of us, as everyone lazed around in the shade. Luckily some of the others had brought their own lawn chairs to add to ours, under the trees, because for once, in between work and kids' schedules, 'everyone' meant everyone.

Or would do, soon.

"Is he having some kind of fit?" Steve was late to the conversation, only just noticing Two-Bit's gyrations, which his two youngest girls had happily joined him in.

"This is his John Travolta impersonation," Elle explained, topping up her lemonade. "I think he's enjoying himself." She laughed as hard as everyone else.

"Daddy!" A small whirlwind slammed into my legs.

I reached down with a grin.

_Two years after Billy came to live with us, Miss Nelson pulled one of her surprise visits. Told us she was calling in a favor. We knew her well enough by then to know that she was kidding. Not for one second had she broken any rules, to get us listed as foster parents. 'Bent', maybe, because we did indeed get to keep Billy while the paperwork went through surprisingly quick, but not 'broken'._

_"What favor?" I asked, playing along._

_"Well, now. It's about time I got to use you as a proper resource." _

_Hmm. We only ever signed on to make things safe and secure for Billy. We weren't part of the Department's pool of carers. __We had Patch and the girls, and now Billy, and things were just perfect as they were._

_And then she told us about Tina. Removed from her addicted mother at birth, she'd been with another couple for three months. _

_"But they don't feel they can cope with her...difficulties." Miss Nelson's expression made it clear what her opinion of these people was. I asked what difficulties she was talking about and she explained that Tina had been born with a cleft palate. Although she'd had one operation, she would need at least one more and might have other problems on top of that. She would have some scarring and possible speech issues._

_"Where is she now?" asked Jo. _

_"In the hospital. The foster parents don't want to take her home again."_

_"They left her there? On her own?" Jo was on her feet. I knew our decision was already made._

_Miss Nelson beamed at us. "I'd love you to meet her. I just felt, getting to know you all this time, what with Jackie being so well adjusted..."_

_She made it sound so easy. And Jackie at ten years old, pre-puberty, pre-high school, was one thing. But her scar was always going to be with her and I knew we'd have to help her adjust all over again. We had a secret weapon though, that even Miss Nelson might have been shocked about._

"Daddy!" Tina gave me a sticky hug around the neck, as though we'd been apart for five years, not five minutes. Best feeling in the world.

Billy hadn't ever had a dad around and he was in no hurry to acquire one. His mom, as useless as she was, was still his mom. He called me and Jo by our names, which was cool with us. And I wasn't really 'Daddy' to Jackie, unless she was talking about me to the little kids, even though she'd fallen in with calling Jo 'Mom' fairly soon after Carrie started up the habit. That was okay. I got it. There was no replacing Cole and Audrey for her and I could understand that.

Carrie had stayed quiet. You could be in a room and not even know she was there. Trailing Jo for the whole day in the early years had been her thing, because she was afraid to let her out of her sight. She'd been asleep when the accident happened and then unconscious; for her it was like her parents just up and vanished.

Jackie was the one who remembered the crash. Who had the nightmares, even now, occasionally. If she needed to get up in the middle of the night, it was usually me who watched her. We'd sit on the porch, or if it was winter, wrap ourselves in blankets on the window seat, and talk. Or not. Whatever she needed.

We hadn't adopted her and Carrie, nor changed their name to Curtis, because we felt that should be their decision. Jackie was a good big sister to Patch and Tina, all the same.

Tina was four months old by the time she came to us, but about half the size of Patrick at the same age. She was still small, although her surgeries had been completely successful and she had no problems eating and not really any more speech impediments than any other three year old. Maybe she'd been a little slower than Patch, to learn her colors and shapes and so on, even a little slower to walk and talk, but so what? All kids were different. Her adoption went through officially in time for her second birthday, but she was ours way before that.

There was no doubting that Patch was our boy, _my_ boy, and I'd taught him to ride a bike and a horse, taught him how to swim and to how to hit a baseball. We wrestled and laughed and scoffed at the girls when they needed saving from spiders and jars that wouldn't open. And at nine, he wasn't yet too big or too cool to give me a hug or kiss me goodnight. I still blessed the day he came into my and Jo's lives.

But there was a special place in my heart that fizzed and sparked, when Tina hung onto me and Suzanne commented, "Still a daddy's girl, then, I see."

"You'd better believe it," said Jo, with a smile, "Just yesterday she said—"

She was cut off by the noise of engines, which also brought the twins running from the corral. Patch and DJ were quick to join them, as the two dirt bikes skidded to a halt over by the barn.

DJ was the only 'only' among us all. After a couple of miscarriages, Darry and Suzanne had settled on just him. But between the Randle boys, the Mathews girls and our lot, he was in no danger of growing up lonely. Although the age splits caused occasional issues. Someone was always demanding to be included, or complaining they were being left out.

Right then, Jay and Billy ignored the younger boys and hit up the picnic table, chugging lemonade like there was no tomorrow—I was pretty sure they'd have drunk right from the jug, if they weren't under the hawk eyes of the four women. Frankly it was a close thing regarding us grown men and the bottles of beer I had cooling in a bucket, when it came to any calling out of manners.

"Did you leave any dirt on the roads?" Evie swatted at the dust on Jay's jeans when he threw himself down on the grass next to her.

He grinned. "What roads?"

"When do we get to eat?" Billy asked Jo, who repeated my stalling answer to Patch, "Soon."

Billy shrugged good naturedly. I couldn't help but remember the first week he'd been with us, when I found a squirrel's nest of apples and half sandwiches and saved up cookies in his bed. It had taken him a while longer to trust that he wouldn't go hungry in our house, so we let him have a lunch tin to use, at least that way there wouldn't be moldy crumbs or insects all over his sheets. Eventually the tin stopped being filled. Now when he asked about lunch it was just the normal preoccupation of a fifteen year old.

He thrived with us, fresh air and all, to the point where he never wanted to go back into town. To the point where he had to be dragged to school. He was happy working on the ranch all the hours he could. I suspected he wasn't going to finish high school and honestly, what argument did I have? But I knew it was going to piss off Steve, because he was already butting heads with Jay over whether he needed to graduate to join his dad in the garage. Steve's argument, that Jay would find a business course as useful as he did, wasn't impressing a kid who just wanted his hands in an engine all the time. And if his best friend quit school, it would be even harder to convince him.

I thought about the year Steve and I were fifteen. Cars and girls. Girls and cars. Yeah. Might need to put our heads together, work out how to steer these two towards a gown and cap.

Without warning, Jay shouted his brother's name, making more than one of the adults jump. Curt stepped back guiltily from the dirt bike, where the younger boys were still poking around.

"Don't yell like that," Evie complained.

"Well, tell him then, to leave my cycle alone."

"Why don't you play football with them?"

Jay rolled his eyes. "Because they're little kids. I might squash 'em."

The garden chair swayed as Darry got to his feet. "Not if you still tackle like a girl," he drawled, making Jay squawk indignantly. Darry beckoned to both the older boys. "C'mon, let's see if I can squash_ you_." He whistled towards the house. "Yo, Saturday Night Freaker, game time!"

"I wanna be on Uncle Darry's team," Patch announced, before I was even on my feet. Smart kid.

Jo laughed at the hurt expression I tried to pull off. She shooed us away. "Just take it far enough away from the table, please."

Nine year old Mandy hopped up and down, demanding to play as well.

"Sure you can, honey," her mom said, getting up to join her. "Girls can do anything they want to," she added as there was a groan from the twins' direction, "and usually better than boys!" Elle grinned, calling back, "How 'bout you, Evie? You got a house full of testosterone, you must know the rules by now."

"An' that's exactly why I'mma stay right here, thank you!" Evie was attempting to braid Tina's hair, as she held her in her lap. "Get me some quality girl time."

"Aw, you could've brought Toni today," Jo said, thinking of Evie's niece, but she got a shake of the head in reply from Evie.

"It's not Sarah's weekend. It's early days, since their divorce, so I didn't wanna rock the boat."

Jay looked so like his dad when he scowled. I could see it in the twins sometimes but most definitely in Jay, more so as he got older. When he stood up he was a full head taller than Billy. I followed them down to the flattest part of the yard, where the game was being organised.

We didn't get past the first couple of plays, before a shiny black Toronado swung onto the drive way.

"Nice wheels," said Two-Bit with an appreciative whistle.

Steve clicked his tongue on his teeth. "Yeah, don't get too excited. It's a _rental_. From the airport. It ain't his."

The kids who'd been anticipating this arrival were already haring towards the car as the driver's door opened. But Patch and DJ were left in the dust by Jay, who rocketed into Pony, all teenage swagger forgotten as they hugged and slapped each other on the back.

It blew my mind some, to see them next to each other. Ponyboy was an eternal fifteen year old, in my mind; the kid, the baby of the family. It was one thing to notice the changes creeping up on Jay, it was weirder still to suddenly see some lines by Pony's eyes. Pony, who hadn't been home for...three years. Shit. I hugged him tight.

"Happy Birthday, Uncle Pony!" DJ was tugging on one hand, Patch on the other.

Ponyboy hugged them and looked over at the balloons lining the porch and the lop sided banner with 'Happy 30th' painted on it. He grinned. "Man, I was hoping to let it slide past quietly."

"You came home all the way from London, En-ger-land, for 'no celebration'?" Two-Bit scoffed. "As if."

Pony stepped back, opening the passenger door of his rental. "Actually, no. I came home to introduce you to someone." His arm went around the waist of the young woman who climbed out. "Everyone, this is Rosalind."

"Just Rosie's fine," she insisted with a smile. "Hello, 'Everyone'."

Later, Jo and Evie both claimed to have spotted the ring first. I didn't need to. I'd been watching Pony's eyes.

xxXxx

Coming back from closing up the chickens and settling the horses, I could see Jo standing on the back porch. She looked like she was enjoying the peace and quiet.

"Who was on the phone, before?" I stepped up behind her and slid my arms around her, ignoring the view, in favor of nuzzling her neck.

Everyone who didn't live here had gone home, including Pony and Rosie who were staying with Darry, but coming back tomorrow. It gave me a sense of...calm, to be able to think that: _'I'mma see Pony tomorrow'_. I held onto it tight. Even if he was done travelling, I knew what marrying a British chick would mean, most likely, for where he would live the rest of his life. When I remembered him at sixteen, pulling out every excuse he could think of, not to go away to college, not to have to leave us, I knew it for the right kind of progress for him, even if it meant leaving me behind.

Jo leaned back against me and I turned the nuzzle into a kiss. From inside, the TV noise told me our kids were all happily watching The Dukes of Hazzard so we wouldn't have to hear Patch's dramatic '_Yuk, mushy stuff!_' – the usual accompaniment to any such sign of affection.

"Oh, yeah, that." She pulled my arms tighter around her as she answered my question about the phone. "That was Miss Nelson."

"How come? About Tina?"

She shook her head.

As nice as it was, to have this quiet cuddle, I was well aware she was usually _this _quiet for a reason. "Well..." I prompted.

"Well. Well, indeed."

"_Jo_."

"A little girl, Soda. Not even two years old yet. She's been in the hospital and no one else will take her, not at short notice. I said we would."

"Oh, you did, huh?"

She nodded. "I did. After all...it was your idea."

"Huh?"

"You said 'six'." She twisted around far enough to kiss me on the cheek. "You definitely said you wanted_ six_."

Oh.

Yeah.

**The End**

* * *

**A/N: Wow. Here we are then! It's a surreal feeling, to have this done. Finished. Over. Back when I posted the epilogue to Evie's stories, all of this was swirling around in my head but I didn't imagine anyone else would ever get to see it. I felt so mean, leaving you all thinking Soda never had kids! **

**Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to post this story and thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed and favorited, your feedback and interest has meant so much to me. **


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